


From Grace

by blood_infexions



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol, Angel/Human Relationships, Angels, Angst, Barebacking, Fluff, Graphic Depiction Of A Suicide Attempt, Guardian Angels, Happy Ending, Heavy Guilt/Self Hatred, Holidays, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/References Self Harm, M/M, Pining, References To Blood/Injury, Religious Content/Themes, Sexual Tension, Significant Age Difference (sorta?), Smoking, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 16:48:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12324960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blood_infexions/pseuds/blood_infexions
Summary: “The connection a guardian angel will have to their human surpasses anything mortal man could fathom. It is pure, untainted love.”Frank is Gerard's guardian angel... until Gerard attempts suicide. Consequentially he is sent down to earth to live as a human again.





	From Grace

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort and the idea of fallen angels. This fic took me forever. I really hope you enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“ _The worst day of my life_.”

Gerard pondered the statement. It was overused to say the least; a string of words you heard all the time but never took seriously. A sentence easily used by a thirteen year old girl when no one showed up to her birthday party.  
  
What defined the very worst day of your life? What did you have to lose, or survive, that truly made it count? Even then, you probably didn't know it was the worst day until it was over. He always imagined the day his grandmother passed away would have to be the worst of his own life. The way her cold hands shook as she took her last breath, the things she’d told him about who he was… Elena taught him so much; to love art, to care for other people, to find his worth in creativity rather than achievement, and to keep his chin up when things were bad.  
  
Staying positive wasn't one of his stronger qualities. He tended to add things up and hyperfocus on them until they became too much. Standing too close to the picture to see it accurately; the lines of good and bad, fair and unjust, right and wrong… Each portion of his life blurred together into some obscure horror. Right now things were too much. Or worse yet, too little.

He tore the black apron off, bundled it up, and threw it in the dumpster beside the building. His job at the coffee shop wasn't much but it was all he had sometimes. He'd miss it, just as much as he missed his grandmother, his boyfriend, and the number of friends he'd fucked things up with along the way. What was wrong with him? Everything that mattered was slipping through his fingers and he couldn't get any of it back. He didn't have anything left. Not a goddamn thing.

He tried to shake the precarious thought from his head. Of course he did. He had Mikey. He had his art. He had a roof over his head, food on the table, and air in his lungs. He ran dry fingers through oily hair, wishing it was enough.

Walking home, he cursed under his breath. “Forgot to take my meds, dammit.”

He always forgot. His boyfriend used to remind him but he wasn't around anymore. He couldn't resent him for leaving even when he tried. Gerard would have done the same. After all, he was lucky the guy put up with his bullshit for as long as he did.

The months had passed by in a haze. He felt as though he was losing himself along with the rest of it. Like he'd woken up to see someone he wasn’t in the mirror. 

He kicked a rock and watched it skip across the pavement as he tried to find solutions. He considered looking for another job, a new relationship… The stinging truth was that he didn't want to start over. Why create a new life just to screw it up again? He couldn't go back and he couldn't move forward. Trapped in the middle of something he didn't ask for. He was the only common factor in all of this. 

The New Jersey air smelled like cut grass and engine exhaust that day. Autumn had begun to set in early this year. The leaves were still green and full of life but they would only remain another month at the most. He'd lived here all his life; he knew the seasonal patterns well.

The sky was cloudless above his head; threateningly bright with white hot sunlight. The last fringes of summer hadn't left the atmosphere yet.  
  
His phone buzzed in his back pocket as he turned the lock to his apartment. He threw his keys and jacket on the floor, and pushed the door shut behind him. The hollow sound of the lock latching echoed through the cluttered living room. Leaning against the frame, he read the text from Mikey. 

“How was work?” he asked.

“Got fired,” Gerard typed back wistfully.  
  
“Oh shit,” Mikey replied. A second text, “R u ok?”  
  
“It’s fine. My own damn fault.”  
  
“Want me 2 come over?”  
  
“Not 2night. I'm fine, Mikey.”  
  
He wasn't fine; far from it. He couldn't think straight or breathe enough to fill his lungs. He felt so alone and lost. It burned deep inside of him. This shouldn't have bothered him so much but he couldn't seem to bear the weight of life resting atop his aching shoulders. He didn’t know what he was living for. He wasn’t sure he ever did. 

He opened the half empty bottle of vodka from the cabinet above the fridge and took a long draw of it. It was bitter at the back of his throat but oh-so-good. He shuddered and capped the bottle only to resign himself to opening it again and taking another. He didn't put the bottle down but carried it with him to the bathroom. The thick stench of the strong substance burned in his nose.  
  
He barely knew his own face in the mirror. He looked so much older than he had in the past summer. His eyes were dark and bloodshot from weeks of fitful slumber and unrest. His nights spent sitting up smoking and drinking hard liquor until dawn showed now. He was paler than usual too, which was admittedly saying something.

“You look like a fucking zombie,” he said to Mirror Gerard. Another time he might have laughed but not tonight.  
  
He was fifteen the first time he thought of it. He always talked himself out of it, always found a way around it, always found a reason. But he was just so desperate now. He didn't want to screw things up anymore. He was alone and it was all his fault. He'd done every bit of this to himself, like a pathetic Icarus of the modern day.   
  
He couldn't hate himself if he was dead, he thought as he grasped the bottle of Ativan. Nobody would be here to stop him. He could leave this world. The universe would be better off without him anyway.

Tears rushed him, searing across his face. He was scared but not scared enough to change his mind. He took a deep breath and slid down onto the floor. The bathroom tile was cool, almost welcoming. He leaned his head against the wall as he eased the orange bottle open. He started one at a time, pill after pill after pill, and finally poured the rest into his hand, washing them back in one mouthful with the reeking vodka.  
  
This was the end of him. He closed his eyes and felt the drugs wash through him. Slowly he faded into darkness; like he'd stepped into a thick fog. There was just pain, pain, pain racking through his stomach and bleeding into the rest of his body. He felt the need to vomit; felt it coming up his throat but refused to let it. He wouldn’t let this sorry body keep him alive. He couldn't force enough air into his chest and stopped trying. It would all stop soon, he consoled himself. The void of an eternal sleep would come and he could finally get some goddamn rest.  
  
He thought of Mikey. His baby brother. The only one who ever stayed. He should have apologized to him. He should have said he was sorry to be the one to leave.  
  
His world went cold and Mikey was with there when it did. He was too far gone to see but he felt him there. It wasn’t real. It couldn't have been real. There was a scream and speech a moment later but every other word was lost in the haze. He'd heard his little brother scream before, many times, but never like that.  
  
So many faint sensations came; the hollow sound of the glass bottle falling against the tile, Mikey cursing and _oh god_ , crying.

Sentences, scattered and faded. “Please…brother… think… overdose… ambulance… begging…”  
  
One string of words was clear as his brother’s arms wrapped around his chest, pulled him close. He felt Mikey's hands in his hair, his breath against his forehead. So far away yet so near.

“Don't leave me here. I love you.”  
  
He was already gone, right? Mikey would be okay. Mikey was stronger than him. Mikey was always stronger than him. Mikey would be better off alone.  
  
Maybe the worst day of his life would be the day he died.

~ ~ ~

Mikey knew something was wrong. He didn't know how but he knew. He felt a chill run down his spine. Something pulled him to get into the car; drew him to check on Gerard.  
  
He’d run three red lights on his way over, unable to understand why he felt so panicked. Something was wrong with his brother and he had to be there.  
  
He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer before he pulled out his key. It dismayed him to find the door already unlocked. The venomous panic crept further up his chest and into his throat. His heart beat in double time. Nobody in their right mind left their front door unlocked in New Jersey. He didn't bother to close the door again as he rushed into the apartment, searching frantically for Gerard. He took note of the jacket and keys lying haphazardly on the floor and shouted his brother’s name.  
  
His breath hitched in his throat when he saw the bathroom light through the cracked door. He steadied himself and nudged the door open. He would remember this night for the rest of his life.  
  
A thousand feelings struck his chest, wrapped around his head, and slapped his face. His scream didn't sound like his own… It was simply something happening; part of the scene before him. He dialed nine-one-one before he even thought about it. He grasped for words but they evaded him. At first all he could do was beg the soft spoken woman on the phone to please, please save his brother.

A short wash of cool composure came and he said in a hollow tone, “He’s overdosed. Lorazepam, I think. There's a mostly empty bottle of vodka here too. The prescription bottle is empty. He took it all. Send an ambulance, fast. He's still breathing but barely.”

He gave them the address and choked, “Please, get here fast and save my brother, I'm begging you.”  
  
Mikey was never a touchy-feely person. He preferred to show love in other ways; he was always on time if not early, never forgot a birthday, and always knew the perfect gift. He was exceedingly loyal. But now in this panic and pain he needed to hold his brother. He needed to feel Gerard’s heartbeat while it was still there.  
  
Gerard had always been there for him. Always. Now here he was, on his way out of this world, and Mikey had come too late. He should have known. He pulled him as close as he could, stroked his hair, whispered in his ear.

“Don't leave me here. I love you.”  
  
He folded in on himself and fought for breath. He felt like a child as he rocked their two bodies back and forth, praying to anyone that might be listening. He pleaded with heaven, hell, and all that stood between.  
  
It felt like an eternity before the paramedics rushed into the bathroom and pulled Gerard from his arms. He wanted to fight them—wanted to keep them from taking his brother away—but he knew better. Gerard had tried to take his life away from him, and they would do everything to keep him from succeeding.  
  
“He’s strong,” Mikey murmured senselessly. “His heart’s still beating. He’s strong.”  
  
Medical terms flew through the air and made him dizzy. Things would be okay. Of course they would. They'd save Gerard and then he could tell him not to ever do anything like that again. Right?  
  
But what if he wasn't right? He imagined the scenes he'd have to face; Gerard dying before they even reached the hospital, his mother’s eyes after losing her firstborn son, a bitter funeral bathed in black clothes, the days to come… He didn't know how Gerard could expect him to survive that, and if he did, at what cost?  
  
His only brother attempted suicide. Whatever the outcome, Mikey knew he’d never be quite the same after seeing him like that. Not after knowing what he was capable of. He wanted to be angry but there was only pain. Pain and the deepest love that he knew.  
  
In the ambulance he held his face in his hands and tried to push the demons away. He fought and fought, but the only thing that came was tears and burning lungs. He could tell himself he didn't understand, but he did. He'd been there; he just never quite took it this far. He stared hard at the metallic floor and his worn shoes.  
  
They pumped Gerard’s stomach. He moaned as he wretched; the worst noise in the world. He tried to say something but he was too far gone and the paramedics silenced him.

More medical talk came but Mikey was deaf to it through ringing ears and a spinning head. He barely felt lucid when they reached the hospital. He followed after the paramedics and watched helplessly as they turned Gerard over to a set of doctors.  
  
“Does he have any allergies?” he was asked.  
  
“J-just to cats.”  
  
The doctor who’d had the question walked away and began forcing an IV into Gerard’s arm. A large-framed nurse restrained him as his brother flatlined. Mikey screamed and thrashed and cried but to no avail. Moments later the machine was beeping steadily again.

The room was composed of sharp tones. Sterile, stinging whites and grays. A few muted blues and greens too. The lights burned his tear-ravaged eyes. The stale air tasted of chemicals.  
  
“We’ve got him stabilized! Get him to the ICU, post someone to monitor his vitals and put him on suicide watch if he makes it through the night.”  
  
If he makes it through the night. His legs gave out, and he fell back into a chair. He didn't know how long he sobbed, just that whatever pain this was, it was worse than dying could ever be. If Gerard died, he'd never forgive him. He'd never forgive himself.  
  
He should have known.

~ ~ ~

“ _The connection a guardian angel will have to their human surpasses anything mortal man could fathom. It is pure, untainted love_.”

Frank had held onto every word. He almost didn't believe it when he heard angels talking about their humans. It seemed like a strange sort of magic; the way their faces sparkled with affection. They knew their humans’ hearts better than their own and spoke of little else. It wasn't like an obsession but rather a consuming pride, pure in its own innocence and abnegation. He longed to understand it… Until he was appointed. Then he knew exactly why the other guardians’ eyes glowed with that love, because it then warmed him too. It was an intrinsic part of his very being.  
  
God had smiled on his face with wise, kind eyes as she told him of the privilege she was placing on his soul. She explained that angels were hand-chosen to each human; matched perfectly in holy order. Only those who had known lives as humans before could bear the honor. Only they could understand the pain and struggles of Earth’s reality. It captured him with fascination.

He’d never been happier than the day Gerard was given to him. His life was placed into his hands, so fragile and precious from the instant his heart began beating. Donna Way had been a loving mother from the moment she learned she was pregnant. Frank felt blessed that she was; it made his job easier.  
  
Looking down from heaven, human lives seemed so short. They lived dizzyingly fast; always gazing to the end. Living with so many ultimatums and uncertainties. He knew the struggle of it--though the memory was now faded and obscured by this existence a million miles above. Frank felt like Gerard’s life passed by in mere hours, even though it wasn't so.  
  
Right from the start Gerard had a knack for getting himself into trouble. The first couple years of his life were comprised mostly of the angel groaning “Motherfucker, _don't eat that_.”  
  
Frank wanted to protect him but he never quite knew where to step in, or how much. He couldn't protect him from everything, even though he wanted to. Humans learned from suffering, to a degree. He had to let him fall off his bike, had to watch him get the flu, and couldn't stop every bully’s punch. Every little pain hurt Frank more than Gerard. He was his joy. Gerard was his privilege.  
  
He was allowed to give him blessings every once in awhile. Little things; snow on Christmas morning, the gaze of a pretty girl across the room, the perfect cup of coffee, a concert ticket… He always knew what the boy would enjoy. Experiencing his human’s happiness was the best sensation he'd ever known. Protecting him was hard but so rewarding. More than anything, he loved Gerard. Gerard was his. He ached knowing that he would eventually grow old and die but then he also felt warm inside when he thought about how Gerard would be next to him then; young and close.  
  
He'd made many friends among the guardian angels. They’d talk about their humans and their own past lives on earth. He was closest with Ray, who had been endowed shortly after him, when Gerard’s brother was born. They shared a lot of joys as the years passed by. Mikey was very different from his older brother, but he made Gerard happy, so Frank loved him almost as much.  
  
Frank’s trouble came with Gerard’s depression. How could he be protect him from himself? It wasn't fair. But he did his best. He kept a close watch on him, made sure he got to the doctor, hell… even made sure he got a good boyfriend that fulfilled him and reminded him to take his medicine. He did everything he could, right? Wrong. His best wasn't enough. He'd failed.

He was entrusted, blessed with a human life, and he fucked it up. The man he loved so much was miserable enough to try—and hell, almost succeed—at taking his own life. He had one job, to protect Gerard, and he'd failed him. Frank failed the one he loved most, every single day of his life from the start.

His stomach crawled up into his throat as he and Ray argued over the matter. Ray’s hands flew up in exasperation and his curly hair seemed even frizzier than usual, to really state something. His voice had lost some of its usual serenity in favor of anger.  
  
“The fact is, you didn't do your damn job, so you sacrificed my human. Mikey’s in agony!”  
  
“What the fuck was I supposed to do?” Frank yelled back. “Gerard would have died! I had to send someone to save him and Mikey was the only one who could do it!”  
  
“Because you didn't protect him,” he said evenly.  
  
Frank took a sharp breath and backed down. Ray was right. Frank hadn't used a steady enough hand with Gerard through his life. To make things worse, he'd hurt Mikey in the aftermath. How had God trusted him with this? Clearly he wasn't made for it. He didn't understand but he knew there would be dire consequences.  
  
He wished God would get angry. He wished she would scream and strike him and send him down to hell. He deserved to burn for this. But she wouldn't. Humans always imagined God to be vengeful, angry. But she was far from it. Everything she did, she did with the purest of love and patience. In everything she did there was wisdom.

She’d come to talk to him and deliver his punishment soon. She’d give him what he deserved and it would be done in a way that he would learn from it. He didn't know what to expect but it would be just. She always gave him more than he deserved.  
  
He and Ray didn't argue or talk anymore, just watched Mikey sitting by Gerard’s bedside, grasping his hand.

Ray leaned his shoulder against his and apologized for shouting and saying the things he had. His hair brushed his neck and gave him a morsel of peace.

“It's okay,” he sniffed. “You're still right. I could have done better a long time ago.”

Frank felt tears rolling down his cheeks as he willed Gerard to get better.  
  
The man’s recovery had been slow and painful. Gerard could accomplish almost anything he set his mind to do, and he'd set his mind to kill himself. He'd done a thorough job; he'd have been dead in less than two hours if Mikey hadn't gone.  
  
Frank watched with sorrow as the human he loved so much went through the motions; realizing his suicide attempt had failed, seeing how truly awful the aftermath was, and going through intense therapy. They took him off the lorazepam and put him on a less volatile antianxiety drug. His antidepressant dose was increased. Mikey made him set his watch with a recurring alarm to remind him to take it at 9AM every morning.  
  
Mikey stayed in his apartment with him for two weeks while he got back on his feet. Gerard quit therapy after the mandatory two months and moved into a different neighborhood. A change of scene was the best thing for him. With Frank’s help he got a new job at a different coffee shop. He was getting better; little by little. He’d managed to stay off the alcohol since the incident despite the struggle it was for him.  
  
Frank could hardly bear the weight of it. He'd let Gerard down and couldn't ever undo that. His heart ached. All he wanted was for him to be happy and he'd failed. He was the only one who had the blessing of protecting him. Now he'd disgraced it.

What would the Lord do with him? He kept wondering. Surely she wouldn't hand him over to the Devil… Only wicked, vile souls went down there. He wasn't that bad… Was he? No. Frank was many things; a sinner, a failure, but never wicked. He knew little but he knew love.  
  
All at once Frank felt a warmth come over him, beginning in his chest and spreading to the tips of his wings. He turned to face God and opened his mouth to make an apology.  
  
Before he could speak she pressed a finger to his lips and stroked her hands over the crown of his wings. He let his shoulders ease and he just waited. Waited for her to tell him his fate.  
  
She let out a soft hum and tucked her dark curls behind her ear. It didn't matter how many times Frank saw her, she always inspired love and awe in his heart. Her dark eyes saw him for everything he was and ever would be. He could only hope he hadn't fallen out of favor with her.  
  
“You wouldn't be the first guardian angel to let his human down this way,” she said gently. Her voice was baritone but melodic. It flowed evenly as she spoke. “You won't be the last. You’re pure. As pure as a son of man could ever be. But you were still born into imperfection. Even here, a small part of that remains in you.”  
  
“Yes… my Lord.” The thought occurred to him that she might take Gerard away. That would teach him, wouldn't it? He'd have to watch another angel experience his joys and protect him better than Frank ever had. Gerard was his for so long but he didn't deserve him anymore.  
  
God gave a small laugh, bubbling with grace. “Sweet boy, don’t be afraid. I won't send you to hell. As a matter of fact… I'd say you're already there in your mind. You’re in just as much pain, or more, as your Gerard. Besides, I've loved you far too much. It isn't a fate a creature like you would ever deserve. You have a good heart, Frank Iero. You always have. The devil has never even dreamed of a man like you.”

Her face carried a tender smile that made her high, soft cheekbones stand out. Her features were perfectly symmetrical and her brown skin shined from within. She appeared aged but not a wrinkle kissed her face. He felt his heart warm and a peace ripple through him as she caressed his cheek.  
  
“What will happen to me?” he whimpered. “I deserve to be punished.”  
  
“I wouldn’t say that. You have a lot to learn, but you aren’t but worthy of punishment so much as discipline. You have a lot of time left in your journey. But don't fret, child. You’ll learn your lesson on earth.”  
  
His heart fell. He knew better than to question her choice. This was mercy enough. Being a human was hard… So hard. He'd barely experienced it but thinking of going back terrified him.  
  
“How long?” he asked meekly.  
  
“The rest of his life.”  
  
Frank nodded and sniffed. He'd been crying too much. “Who will protect us?”  
  
“Saint Mary will. I couldn't replace you as his guardian. He’ll only ever be yours. I gave him to you and I can't undo that. You made an oath on his behalf. Your very souls are bonded in ways not even you could understand. As for you… You won't die until he does.”  
  
So Gerard would be in good hands. Frank loved Mary as though she were his own mother. He trusted her implicitly.  
  
“Thank you.” Frank said.  
  
“Have peace, my beautiful son. Your years on Earth will have their joys and pleasures, and you’ll return to me when the time comes. Try not to take the time for granted, hmm?” And she left him.  
  
Saint Mary came next, her olive eyes brimming with affection.

“I'll never forget the way your eyes shined when he was given to you,” she said in gentle cadence. “You'll be with him, your Gerard. Maybe you haven't given him everything he needed or deserved but you've loved him well his whole life. It's more than he’ll ever know. God wouldn't take him from you. Besides…” she smiled with a mirthful expression. “what's a fall from grace among sons of men?”  
  
He nodded, never feeling quite so small. Mary pulled him into a warm embrace, arms and wings enveloping him. She held him strong and steady, smoothing his hair until Saint Peter came.  
  
“Are you prepare to accept the fate that lies ahead?” The man asked him, voice low and clear. Frank nodded and bowed his head.  
  
“Good. Stand up straight for me,” he ordered.

Peter’s brown hair fell into his wizened eyes as he looked upon him. Frank straightened his back and tucked his wings tight to his body.  
  
“I'm gonna miss you, kid. Try to land with a little grace,” Peter said with a gleam in his eye. “May the spirit of God be with you.”  
  
“May the spirit of God be with you too,” Frank said. Or he would have, if Peter hadn't pressed his hands firm to his chest and shoved him back to hurl him through the clouds. The skies broke to swallow him into the open air, sucking him down like the undertow of a strong tide.  
  
In a flash, heaven was gone and he felt the holy spirit depart from inside him. _Human_. He was only human, the moment he hit the ground. Heaven’s light warmth was gone. It left him feeling cold inside; like his blood had turned to ice water. A fog took hold of his mind, like there were things he was forgetting—the feeling of angelic sight leaving him. He'd loved these things divine. It would be a long road before he ever saw them again.

The wind roared in his ears as he plummeted; he tumbled clumsily through the atmosphere. His wings rippled and smacked him with the force of his own velocity. He flapped them frustratedly, managing to right himself. Now he was simply falling backwards, sinking faster and faster through the sky’s abyss. His hair licked his temples and obscured his peripheral vision.  
  
He closed his eyes and let himself fall.

~ ~ ~

Gerard had ink all over his hands. Long streaks and splotches of black ink smeared thoughtlessly all over his fingers and wrists. As it turns out, you use a hell of a lot of black ink when you're drawing Batman. He’d wash it off in the shower, he decided. Later. He hadn't had one in a couple days, and he knew he should get around to it eventually. He brushed a greasy strand of dark brown hair out of his face, sipped his coffee, and kept working his pen over the wrinkled art paper.  
  
He felt okay. Not good yet but okay. He was taking his meds regularly, his new job was nice, he was enjoying the cold weather, and he’d managed to stay off the booze. He had to make those things matter.  
  
He tried not to think of the months preceding this one. The memories camped at his bedside and dared him to revisit them. They called out to him in the night, creeping through the walls and grasping at the edges of his skull.  
He recalled a hospital bed with his family crowded around it. An accursed IV needle had penetrated his skin and set his nerves off like firecrackers. Sitting in a sad white room with the machines and doctors and unfriendly noises he’s thought, I’m alive and it isn't fair.

It’d been raining like hell when he woke up from the darkest sleep he'd ever known. Thunder and lightning raced across the sky and the heavens opened in torrents of water. _Like angels were weeping_ , his mother had said.

He scoffed at the notion. Maybe his family cried for him, but there couldn't have been anyone up there who gave half a shit about him. Elena, perhaps. Why should God care about him? He didn't go to church anymore, hardly ever prayed… Wasn't even sure anyone was there to hear him.

He was probably hellbound after a suicide attempt anyway. What he'd done to Mikey… If that wasn't a sin he didn't know what was. He'd be making it up to him for the rest of his life and it still wouldn't be enough to take that pain from his brother’s face. He'd been a fool do something like that to him.

Telling him he thought he'd be better off without him. Mikey’s haunted voice in his ears, “You're my brother, don't you dare think I regret that.”

He shook it all out of his head, his hair falling into his eyes and tickling his nose. He couldn't think about it too much. He was alive and the hard part was over now, he supposed.

As soon as he was satiated with the dark lines of Batman’s cape, he forced himself to shower. He probably smelled like a jar of pickles, he thought, laughing at himself. A jar of pickles that had been left open in the sun for an hour or two at best.  
  
He turned the water on as hot as it would go, watching the room fill with steam. He scrubbed from his fingers to his wrists with a washcloth. He frowned at his arms; filthy with the scarred remnants of his high school sentence. Raised lines of pink and white stayed from many past attempts to escape the drumming pain in his head. As he finished rinsing the soap out of his hair and dried himself off, he wondered if he'd ever feel clean again.  
  
It didn't matter how much he despised himself, how alone he felt, how bad the ringing in his ears got; he’d promised Mikey he'd stay alive. He’d promised his baby brother he’d do better.

“ _If you wouldn't do it to me, don't do it to yourself_.”

Gerard didn't break promises. At least, not to Mikey.  
  
He needed more coffee. He loved the way the bitter liquid felt on his tongue. Loved the smell and the feeling of caffeine flowing in his veins. He didn't wait to finish dressing to brew it but rubbed the towel across his head as he walked. He tossed the used towel onto the kitchen table, pulled his Iggy Pop shirt over his head, and measured out grounds of dark coffee. Trails of water dribbled down his neck, leaving wet spots on his clothes..  
  
He yawned as the black substance trickled through the machine into the pot. He gave thought to what art project he'd tackle next. He had an entire weekend left to pursue it. He had to stay preoccupied to keep his mind off of his demons. At least, until—  
  
_CRASH!_  
  
“What the hell?” Gerard shouted, startling himself further.

He peered out the window as his ground-floor apartment shook. He didn't see anything suspicious at first. He'd heard an awful crackling noise, like tree branches snapping. He ran a hundred scenarios through his head. A plane had fallen from the sky? No, it wasn't _that_ loud, Jesus, Gerard, paranoid much? Lightning had struck one of the trees behind his apartment? But there'd been no flash of light. He didn't know what happened but he felt the need to find out. He slipped his shoes on and stepped out the back door.  
  
Gerard Way always felt like he'd lived a strange life. But he was so wrong before. _Now_ it was strange. Nothing in the world could have prepared him for what he saw next.  
  
He didn't believe his own mind as he took in the scene. Three or four tree branches lay where they'd been violently broken off. One stabbed straight out of the ground. Leaves were everywhere and the poor tree looked like it’d had a bite taken out of it. That wasn't the odd part.

The unbelievability was the creature writhing on the grass below it; seizing like it was in agony or terror. Both, Gerard decided. Eyes wide and mouth open; it appeared it was trying to scream, but all that came were gasps and choked groans. The otherworldly feel to the whole scene made his head pitch and spin. Was he dreaming? Or drunk? Surely he wasn't drunk. He'd tried getting high once, but he didn't like that, so it wasn't that either. This was happening for real, he was sure.  
  
He wanted to approach it but didn’t know if it was safe. He imagined being struck by one of its viciously flailing wings and shrank back. They had to span at least five feet; shining white except for the areas where they were caked with soil. It was stark naked and undoubtedly male.

Before he knew what he was doing, he spoke to it. “Hey… calm down.”  
  
The creature looked at him, eyes widening further in apparent horror. He seemed to try again to say something but couldn't speak. Gerard showed him empty hands and shushed softly, attempting to mask his emotions. The rush of adrenaline, fear, confusion, doubt, and sheer awe coursing through his system wouldn't comfort the creature. If anything it would make it worse. He didn't plan the words that fell from his lips.  
  
“Are you an angel?” he whispered, kneeling by his side.  
  
The creature nodded, not breaking eye contact. He just stared up at Gerard before he looked down and his face ran red. He covered himself with a dirty wing and looked back at him again. He peered into his eyes for what felt like an eternity. Gerard felt an awed breath leave him as he gazed back. Those eyes were a cool hazel, nearly green, so full of life and soul.  
  
Why was he here? Surely there was a reason. Angels don't just fall from the heavens. He’d never been sure angels even existed, though this was proof if he ever fucking saw it. Suddenly he felt that this creature was his responsibility somehow.

The creature dug his hands into the grass. Soil sank under his nails. His teeth were visibly clenched as tremors racked him.  
  
“Can you understand me?” Gerard said softly.  
  
The angel nodded but remained silent.  
  
“Okay. Good,” he said. “You should come inside. You're uh… You’re kind of naked.”  
  
The angel’s face flushed furiously bright fuschia when he said it. Gerard felt a rush of pity for him.  
  
“Can you stand up?”  
  
The angel nodded once more, trying to lift himself to his feet. He faltered and Gerard caught his arm under his shoulder to support him. He was _short_ , Gerard realized as he helped him to his feet. He’d always imagined angels to be towering creatures; fearsome. The one beside him was small and soft. He kept both wings wrapped around himself, starkly abashed at his own nakedness. Gerard did his best to keep his gaze at eye level.  
  
He sat him down at the table, and said, “I'm going to get you some clothes now, okay? I don't know how we'd get, uh, a shirt on you, but I'm sure I've got some pants you can wear…”  
  
Frantically, he searched his dresser drawer for the smallest pants he had. He pulled out a pair of ripped blue jeans and black boxers and draped them across his forearm. He slowly filled his lungs. He needed to stay calm. Incidentally, that wasn't easy when you had a fucking _supernatural being_ crash land in your backyard on an otherwise average day.  
  
The angel’s gaze was blank when he returned; staring off into the stratosphere with haunted eyes.  
  
“These, um,” Gerard said. “They're the smallest ones I have. You're so damn small but they should mostly fit you. Are you okay on your feet? I mean, you probably don't want me to watch…”  
  
The little creature wordlessly took the items from him and set to putting them on as Gerard turned away. He nodded in a seeming gratitude when Gerard looked at him again, now at least having the essential parts clothed.  
  
Gerard reached for the damp towel on the table and showed it to him for consent. The angel tipped his head in apparent agreement. He stared off into the middle distance as Gerard brought the towel to his wings. He flinched at every touch either with fear or pain but still didn't speak.  
  
“Does anything hurt?” Gerard implored.  
  
A soft, shuddering whimper fell from the angel’s lips and he said, “ _Everything_.”

A tear fell gently from his face and Gerard felt his stomach sink sink to his knees. He knew nothing of this creature but his heart ached for him.  
  
“Can I help?” he asked softly.  
  
The angel just shrugged. Gerard kept easing the dirt off his wings, walking around behind him to get him clean.  
  
“These are beautiful,” he breathed thoughtlessly. His voice dripped with awe.  
  
The angel’s wings shuddered against his hands; soft feathers kissing the tips of his fingers as he choked out a sob.

Gerard had never heard a more pitiful sound as the creature cried, “They won't last.”  
  
Once he’d gotten the last of the grime, Gerard took one more stunned breath at the sparkling white feathers. There was a seamless join between the wings and the angel’s shoulder blades; feathered appendages vanishing into his back. What the hell was he doing here?  
  
The creature turned to face him. His face was soaked with silent tears. Dark hair fell across his forehead in contrast to his milky skin. His mossy-hued hazel eyes were filled to the brim with pain as he reached out a hand to touch Gerard’s face.  
  
“ _Gerard_ ,” he sighed, sending a chill through his bones.  
  
At first, he wondered how he knew his name but the thought was replaced with _of fucking course_ he knew. Before he processed what was happening the angel had wrapped his arms around him and pressed his face tight to his chest. He breathed warmly into his neck. Gerard didn't move, didn't push him away, just stood in confusion. He let his arms fall around him; his hand resting at the back of his neck.  
  
The angel's body was racked with sobs, trembling against him. He just kept saying, “I’m sorry. I'm so sorry, Gerard,” over and over again like the words to a prayer.  
  
“It’s okay,” he kept saying in an attempt to console him.

He didn't know if it was okay. He didn't know how this creature had fallen to earth, or why. He knew he was here for a reason, whatever that might be. That was all he knew.  
  
It was a long time before the angel spoke again. Gerard would try ask him questions but he would just stare stone silently into his eyes. He sat for hours and hours, wordless. There were tears too; torrents of soundless tears. His entire body tensed as Gerard wrapped a blanket around his folded wings.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “You look like you're freezing.”  
  
He rested the fabric over his shoulders. Gerard sat beside him at the table the entire night. The angel never even closed his eyes. He didn't push him, but he wanted the broken little creature to know he wasn't alone. He knew loneliness far too intimately.

He kept getting up to pour more coffee and when the sun rose, he set a cup in front of the angel. To his surprise, the creature wrapped his hands around the cup and brought it to his face. His expression didn't change but he did drink it, cradling the mug in his palms like a treasure.  
  
Gerard had so many questions. So many concerns. Did he need to eat? Or sleep? Was he injured somehow? Clearly he knew and understood English, which Gerard supposed made sense. Angels probably knew a hell of a lot of things. Most of all, he wondered why he was here. Had he done something wrong to be thrown down from heaven? Or was he here for a _reason_? Was he here for Gerard?

With every possible answer, there was merely another question. He didn't have the first clue what to do or think. He'd have to be patient, he supposed. 

Most of all, he wanted to understand why he felt so connected to him. He felt responsible for him, sure… But there was something strangely familiar about his presence. Like he knew exactly who he was but couldn't put his finger on it. The creature seemed to be gazing straight into his soul whenever he met his eyes. Patience, he told himself again. He hoped he'd say or do something when he was ready.

~ ~ ~

The impact rattled him to his core. He must have hit a tree, because he heard a god-awful snap, and then there were leaves; a flurry of green rustling around his head. The world spun around and around in blurred shades of sky, foliage, and dirt. There was the ground, cold and damp. He felt grass and cold soil beneath his palms. Where the hell was he?  
  
“Try to land with a little grace,” Saint Peter had said. Yeah, you first, Pete.  
  
Everything happened fast. Frank felt afraid, more afraid than he ever had in his life--or his afterlife for that matter. He was so shaken from the fall, and god, he was freezing. The panic had him by throat as he felt the sensation of grass skimming against his spine and ass, and he realized he was naked on top of it all. Of course he was. This was how a fall from grace felt. He was naked, cold, and alone. He was allowed to be scared, right?  
  
Gravity. It'd been a long time since he'd had to deal with quite so much of that, and goddamn his wings were heavy. He kept trying to get to his feet, or to fly, or anything, but nothing worked because the weight managed to jerk him back down. He just flailed around, kicking up a frenzy of dirt and trying to scream. His breath hitched in his throat and his eyes flew open. Gerard was there. Right there with him, the heat of his breath clouding in the cold.  
  
He gaped at Frank, holding his hands up to show him he meant no harm. Of course he didn't; this was Gerard. He knew Gerard better than he knew himself. But the man had never known he'd existed. Until now. He had to be naked, didn't he? He shifted to cover himself. His face ran hot with shame. Embarrassment burned even in his knees.  
  
He couldn't speak at first. Human language was clumsy; easily understood but far more difficult to use, so he responded with gestures instead. He was lost in thought as he let himself be lead inside. He kept his wings wrapped around his waist as Gerard supported his weight with surprising ease. The jeans he gave him fit well enough but they bunched up around his ankles. It didn't really matter as long he was covered, he decided.  
  
He couldn't think straight; he was so dizzy and drenched in self pity. His entire body ached from the impact but the worst pain was behind his ribs, right around where he figured his heart to be. Gerard cautiously showed him a towel and Frank tipped his head in agreement. He flinched involuntarily as he brought it to his wings to clean them. It felt good as the soft cloth and Gerard’s steady hands brushed over his feathers.  
  
Frank had always known Gerard was kind. He'd loved that. He was proud that such a wonderful person had been placed in his arms. But he'd never realized just how kind; how truly gentle Gerard was. It seemed like a punishment, being with the very man he’d let down. He was here because he'd failed him. He didn't deserve his kindness. He didn't deserve to have the compassion and mercy in his eyes directed at him, or the steady healing touch of his hands.  
  
His resolve shattered as Gerard asked him softly, “Does anything hurt?”  
  
He heard the word come from his mouth before he decided to say it. “ _Everything_.”  
  
He was on earth. He was flawed and mortal. He wasn't in God’s presence anymore. He had to learn to be human again. He'd have to grow old here. He'd die again. Dying was hard enough to do once; twice was impossible. Further, he ached from head to toe. Even the tips of his wings were sore. His heart rested heavily in his chest, pulling him down toward the floor.  
  
“Can I help?” Gerard asked.

Frank just shrugged. He didn't know. He didn't know what to say, what to do, or how to feel.  
  
He felt Gerard’s breath on his feathers as he whispered, “These are beautiful,”  
  
His resolve shattered like thin glass. He tried to fight the sob that came but it fought back and escaped his chest. The sorrow held him captive to his own wretched humanity.

“They won't last,” he said.

He didn't know how long they would stay. Losing these was part of his lesson. He'd loved these wings. He'd loved them so much. They remained only as a reminder of all he had yet to lose.  
  
When the silken touch of the towel stopped, he turned to face Gerard, careful not to hit him with a feathered appendage. He couldn't help himself, he just pressed his hand strong against the man’s face and breathed his name. He was all he had left. He didn't think as he grabbed onto Gerard for dear life and let himself fall further into the undertow of his own heart.

Gerard didn't push him away. He rested a hand on the back on his neck and kept him close as he let it out. The sobs burned through his chest and throat, wave after wave after wave. He just kept saying he was sorry. He was sorry he'd let Gerard down. He was sorry he'd let him get hurt so much. He was sorry he was here as a burden now instead of a protection. He couldn't even protect himself; not in this world. Not like this.  
  
Eventually he gathered himself and peeled his face from Gerard’s chest. He sniffed and took the same seat he'd had a minute ago. He didn't know what to do. What to say. Where to go. There was only pain and sorrow.  
  
The hours passed by mercilessly; wordless and stifling. Gerard paced around at first, fidgeting like he did when he was deep in thought. When the man seemed to calm down, he brought his sketchbook and sat down at the table next to him.

Frank stared at his hands as he worked and lost himself in the motions of Gerard’s pen. The trails of ebony ink reminded him of getting tattoos. Hey, he thought, there’s something he can do again here. The recollection of the stinging tattoo needle dragging across his skin gave him a morsel of comfort. The rest of the time, he sat feeling empty.  
  
At one point Frank felt a blanket fall over his naked back. He tensed. Gerard just reassured him; told him he looked cold. He was cold, he realized, as he felt himself shivering. The frigid tile floor chilled his bare feet. He was physically and emotionally numb.

Gerard never left his side except to change pens or pour more coffee. Frank felt confused as he placed a cup in front of him. It’d been so long since he’d been human… since he'd needed to eat or drink. He knew he loved coffee before. He still would, right?  
  
Gerard’s brow arched as Frank wrapped his hands around it and took a drink. It was bitter on his tongue but he liked it. It warmed him from the inside and he smiled, just a tiny bit.  
  
Late into the night Gerard fell asleep at the table, his head cradled on his hands. He snored softly. Frank never knew he snored. He was so different up close. Frank knew what the man liked, what he hated, how his mind and heart worked, but there was so much he had yet to learn about him, he realized. Loving him from afar was shockingly different from being next to him. The smell of his skin and the sounds of his breath as he stirred in slumber… He didn't know how to process it.  
  
He still didn't speak the next day. Gerard just went through his day, glancing at Frank every once in awhile, trying to read him but looking still perplexed. He made coffee, scarfed down breakfast, listened to his headphones, read a book, and sketched. Just like he did every weekend. Still, he barely let him out of his sight, hovering around in case he should move or speak.  
  
It was ten o'clock that night when Frank’s tears finally ran dry. He chose to break the silence. He couldn't stay quiet forever. Gerard was a curious thing; keeping him in the dark wasn't fair.

He smoothed his hands over the wood of the table, feeling the hard surface, groping for anything to ground him in the physical world.  
  
“My name’s Frank,” he said tersely. “Frank Iero.”  
  
Gerard snapped to attention as he said it, and nodded slowly. “It's uh, nice to meet you, Frank. I'm Gerard Way… But you already knew that, didn't you?”  
  
Frank tipped his head. “Yeah. I know you.”  
  
Gerard let out a puff of air and said, “Okay then. Are you uh… Can you tell me why you're here?”

He began to stammer anxiously, shifting his weight around in his seat.

“I mean—if you know, or you're a-allowed to tell me or if there's a reason you're here or is this an accident or—“  
  
Frank laughed a little. “Relax,” he said. “I haven't come for your soul or anything. I'm, uh… It’s my fault I'm here.”  
  
He fidgeted more, leaning forward. Frank could almost laugh; Gerard was so fucking eager. He supposed the initial freakout must have ended hours ago because Gerard only looked curious now as he peered into his eyes. He seemed to be searching his face for meaning and answers. Like somehow if he listened close enough Frank would reveal the secret workings of the universe to him.  
  
Frank sighed. “I made a mistake. I had a job, and I failed to do it. I failed, and my punishment is being human again.”  
  
“Again?” Gerard implored. His mouth curved to one side.  
  
“Yeah, again. I died, spent some time living it up in heaven, and got an assignment. A special privilege. I fucked it up and God gave me the boot.”  
  
Gerard rubbed his hands over his face. “That’s… wow.”  
  
“Yeah. I guess.”  
  
There was an awkward silence and Frank chuckled darkly. “You have questions, right?”  
  
“God, tons,” Gerard said emphatically. He pressed both hands over his face and looked at him again.  
  
“Okay. Ask me. I just fell from grace and landed in your backyard, so… I guess I owe you some answers and I don't exactly have a lot left to lose. Just don’t…” Frank sat forward to meet his eyes. He grasped for the right words. “Don’t treat me like I'm some celestial being that you have to honor or whatever. I was born in New Jersey, just like you. I'm human. At least… soon as my wings go.”  
  
“Okay,” Gerard said quietly.

Frank could see the mechanisms of his mind turning behind his eyes.  
  
“Fire at will,” Frank said willingly.  
  
“You've got tattoos,” was the first thing to pop out of Gerard’s mouth. “I didn't know angels could have tattoos. I mean, you've got _a lot_.”  
  
Frank smiled. He couldn't help it. Gerard amazed him; an angel fell into his arms and the first thing he wanted to know was how he had tattoos. He was adorable.  
  
“I got them when I was human the first time around. God didn't want to take ‘em from me. They’re part of me, etched on my soul.”  
  
“Damn, that's awesome,” Gerard said. “Oh man, and you cuss! How's that work? Isn't God supposed to be like, super chaste or whatever?”  
  
Frank snickered. “Nah, she's got a filthy mouth sometimes herself. Man was made in God’s image, after all.”  
  
Gerard’s eyes bugged out of his head. “ _She?_ Are you telling me God is a woman?”  
  
Frank chuckled and said, “God becomes different things for different people. For me… A soft-spoken black woman. Some people might feel better talking to the crusty white dude you always imagine, I guess. Not me.”  
  
Gerard shook his head in bewilderment. “Man… People have it all wrong, don't they?”  
  
Frank smiled. “Yeah. Yeah they do.”  
  
“So what happens to you now?”  
  
“I dunno. Wait till my wings fall off… Get a job, maybe. Find somewhere to live, someone to be.”  
  
“You're gonna think I'm crazy…,” Gerard trailed off.  
Frank quirked an eyebrow and he continued. “But you could stay here with me. I’ve got room and I mean, you're all alone, aren't you?”  
  
“Yeah. I don't have anybody here, really.”  
  
“I've got Mikey, my brother. But that's about it.”  
  
“Mikey’s a great guy,” Frank said before he could catch himself.  
  
Gerard’s brow creased and he shrugged it off.  
  
“How come you want me to stay?” Frank asked.  
  
Gerard was quiet a moment, his lips pursed. “If I fell from the sky, I think I'd want someone to stay with. And… I'm lonely being here by myself all the time.”  
  
Frank should have known that, he thought. Gerard had been too alone for too long.  
  
“Okay. I'll stay as long as you'll have me,” he said, holding his gaze.  
  
Gerard smiled. “Well, there's some scripture about entertaining angels, right?”  
  
Frank snickered again and shook his head. “Yeah… that's more _unknowingly_ entertaining angels. Being kind to everyone. But you're doing pretty alright.”  
  
“Good to know,” Gerard said. “Well… it's nice to know you, Frank.”  
  
“It's nice to know you too, Gee.”  
  
Maybe he didn't deserve Gerard, but he didn't love him any less.

~ ~ ~

Sometime after midnight Gerard and Frank convinced each other to sleep. He was tired as all hell. His brain felt fried; like it had somehow been shoved into a light fixture without him taking note of it.  
  
He got up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and caught a view of Frank sleeping hard on the sofa; laying on his stomach, wings sprawled and arms curled around a pillow. He looked tense with eyes squeezed tight, fists balled, knees curled close to his body, and jaw clenched. He breathed harshly and his face twitched in his sleep like he was having a nightmare.  
  
Gerard took a moment to wonder what one had to do to be thrown out of heaven. Did he even want to know? He couldn't picture such a small, sweet thing like Frank doing anything very awful. He seemed so innocent. Frank stirred a little and Gerard shook the thought from his head. It must have hurt because Frank hadn't given him the reason for his sentence.  
  
Gerard slept the rest of the night, albeit fitfully, and woke up a little before seven. Frank was sitting at the table again, staring blankly out the window. His eyelashes were dark with tears. Gerard coughed softly so he wouldn't startle him with his sudden presence; recalling times he witnessed Mikey all but leap from his skin in a rush of adrenaline. He was light on his feet and tended to creep up on people without meaning to. He was like a phantom of sorts.  
  
Frank rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and said, “Good morning, Gee.”  
  
“Good morning, Frankie.” he replied setting immediately to making coffee. “Hey, do you uh… do you eat?”  
  
Frank’s gaze snapped up, eyebrows knitted together and his lips flattened.

“I don't know. I mean… I guess. Probably.” A moment later he revised his own statement with, “Yeah, you know what, I'm fucking starving.”  
  
Gerard smiled and said, “Well I've got eggs in the fridge I can make. You eat eggs?”  
  
“Eggs are awesome,” Frank said with a little half grin.  
  
“It’s been awhile since you've had to worry about it I guess.”  
  
“Yeah… I'm just trying to remember who I used to be. I remember my immune system being a little fucked up. I didn't eat meat or drink milk…”  
  
“Well, there's a start.” Gerard said patiently, not turning away from the stove as he jabbed at the mess of scrambled eggs with a plastic spatula.

Frank’s eyes rolled back in his head with fulfillment as he ate and Gerard gave him coffee too. He grinned at the cute little sounds he made with his lips to the steaming mug.

“You seemed to enjoy that last night and I'm never short on it,” Gerard said, gesturing to the coffee in his hands.  
  
“It’s great,” Frank breathed.  
  
They ate together in oddly comfortable silence. When they finished breakfast, another question fell from Gerard’s head.

“How old are you, anyway?”  
  
Frank took a moment and said, “Twenty-five. When I died.”  
  
Gerard felt the hair on his arms bristle. It was the first time it had really sank in that Frank had died before. How hard must that have been?  
  
“But what about… After that?”  
  
“I don't know. As angels go, pretty damn young I guess. Time works way, way differently up there though. Barely exists.”  
  
Gerard nodded, chewing on it. That meant that in a way, Frank was his age. The concept felt odd in his head. Weren't angels supposed to be ageless, ethereal creatures? Frank was so human. Relatable, flawed, even fractured. Tattooed, unkempt and somehow intangibly damaged in a way Gerard hadn’t yet figured out.

A few minutes later he pulled his phone out. “I'm gonna call work and tell ‘em I can't come in today.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Gerard said, “Because there’s a guy in my house that fell from the sky. I'll say I've got a stomach bug or something and get my shift covered.”  
  
“No, go to work. I'll be fine. I'll just sleep and stuff.”  
  
“It'll be fine, Frank--”  
  
“No,” he said firmly. “Go to work, and don't think I don't know you need this job. I'll be fine when you get back, man.”  
  
“You're sure?”  
  
Frank nodded and said, “Get going before you’re late.”  
  
“Okay,” he said. “I don't have much in the way of food, but help yourself to whatever is there. I'll get a few things on the way home.”  
  
And so he left the apartment, looking over his shoulder to double check that Frank was really okay. It made him nervous, thinking of him rattling around the apartment all alone.

~ ~ ~

Normal life felt strange after something really, truly weird happened to you, Gerard found.  
  
It all felt distant and dull now. There was solace in the routine of his job at the coffee house but he couldn't stay focused for long. He knew there was something bigger than him and so much left he didn't understand. He felt like he should be freaking out more but it just seemed like a little bit of a miracle or something. An angel falls from the sky and lands in your very own backyard, you tend to see life a little differently.

The day bustled on through the hours. Espresso machines hissed, bean grinders screeched, people chatted and laughed and carried on, and the glass door clacked against its frame as customers came and went. He blended into his environment silently. He felt like a ghost in a fog; untouched and unseen.

He felt so peculiarly comfortable with Frank, like he'd known him his whole life. The guy seemed to understand him, details about his life and everything. He wondered how much Frank really knew about him and why. What was ever really special about him?  
  
He folded his apron neatly as he walked to his car. He had a little cash left from last week’s paycheck, so he was going to pick a few things up for Frank. Poor guy didn't have anything except for a set of wings that apparently wouldn't even last.  
  
He wandered through the supermarket, fidgeting. He hated grocery shopping because it spiked his anxiety. He grabbed things as he thought of them; a toothbrush, a comb, shampoo, deodorant, socks, and a pair of jeans that looked like they might fit Frank better.

He supposed it would be pointless to try and buy Frank much in the way of clothes right now, because he didn't know what would fit or what he'd like. There was no way he’d be able to to wear a shirt without a lot of modifications made to it. There weren't exactly wardrobe options with fucking angels in mind. He could take him later, he decided, so he’d just get the jeans this time.  
  
He spent the rest of the time getting food; frozen waffles, cereal, almond milk for Frank, soup, brown rice, vegetables, and the like. When he was finally home, Frank insisted on helping him put groceries away.

He found the angel sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. The evening news was on; set to a soft volume. The cramped apartment felt warmer to come home to when it wasn't void of all companionship.

He noticed details that had been changed too. Dishes had been washed and stacked neatly. A broom had been moved from beside the fridge to the corner of the kitchen as evidence that he'd swept. The crooked photos in the hallway were all symmetrical now. It was pleasing to see, even though Gerard felt strange knowing his perfect stranger had cleaned his apartment for him.  
  
Gerard handed him the bag of things he'd gotten for him and Frank peered inside questioningly. His eyes sparkled a little as he pulled the blue toothbrush out and stared at it.  
  
“You got this stuff for me?” he said reverently.  
  
“Yeah, of course. You need it.”  
  
“You didn't have to,” Frank whispered.  
  
Gerard wanted to argue that yes he did because Christ, the guy needed help. Someone had to take care of him and nobody else was here to do it.

To spare Frank’s dignity he said instead, “Well I wanted to. You're starting from scratch and I'd like to help you out. We all need an extra hand to get us to our feet sometimes.”  
  
Frank nodded solemnly. He couldn't read his expression but he could tell he was grateful. The angel started asking him questions about work and how his day was, and Gerard told him about the interesting side of all the people he’d seen come through the coffee house that day.  
  
A new thought dawned on him: that he couldn't keep Frank a complete secret. He had to tell Mikey. Mikey would handle it well for sure. He'd found Gerard with worse things than a fallen angel before; things he didn't want to think about ever again.  
  
“Can I tell Mikey?” he asked. “Nobody else has to find out. It's just… He’s my brother.”  
  
Frank froze and said reluctantly, “Yeah, I guess he’ll meet me eventually. No point lying about what I am.”  
  
Gerard nodded and called his brother.  
  
“You just _called_ me,” Mikey said upon answering.  
  
“Uh, obviously.”  
  
“Gee, you haven't actually called me in ages. You text. It’s all we do.”  
  
“Stop shitting a brick, I need you to come over.”  
  
“Something wrong?” Mikey asked, his tone changing to one of concern.  
  
“Not--not exactly?”  
  
Frank’s brow creased and he rested his cheek on his fist. He looked half amused, half anxious.  
  
“Gerard, what's going on?”  
  
“There's an angel in my apartment,” he blurted out, his voice quiet.

Frank then lost it, sputtering and rocking back and forth with laughter.  
  
Mikey snorted and said, “God, you can be so dramatic. That's um, that's great Gerard.”  
  
“No I don't mean—ugh. I don't have a boyfriend over—just, get over here.”  
  
“Whatever, I'll be there in twenty, you weirdo.”  
  
Frank was still laughing when he hung up.

“You just spat it out!” he shrieked. “And he thought you were being a goddamn schoolgirl!”  
  
Gerard felt his face run hot and he shook his head.

“What was I supposed to say? It just slipped out!”  
  
“It’s fine… But fuck, it’s hilarious!”  
  
“Yeah, I guess it is.”

And Gerard let himself laugh at his own miscommunication.  
  
Typical to his behavior, Mikey was over in exactly seventeen minutes. He didn't knock but unlocked the door with his key. Gerard realized he should have thought of that beforehand, because Frank happened to be standing in the middle of the living room letting his wings stretch out to their full length at that exact moment.  
  
Mikey jumped back against the closed door, and shouted, “What the fuck?!”  
  
Frank shrank back too, folding in on himself to look smaller than he already was, save for the five and a half foot wingspan.  
  
Gerard put his hand on Frank’s bare shoulder to try and ease him, to no avail. He felt him tremble beneath his palm.  
  
“Relax, he won't hurt you. It's just Mikey, it’s okay,” he reminded him.  
  
Frank nodded a little, meeting the younger brother’s bewildered eyes.  
  
“You're freaking him out, calm the fuck down,” Gerard said.  
  
“ _I’m_ freaking him _out_?”  
  
“I was trying to tell you but what was I supposed to say?”  
  
Mikey looked thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he said. “Uh ‘hey, there’s a half naked mutant guy with wings in my apartment.’ Something along those lines. Swe’re fuck, Gee.”  
  
Gerard nudged Frank to sit down on the couch and Mikey took a seat as well.  
  
“Well… What is he? Where'd he come from? Why’s he here?”  
  
“Slow down, man. He fell out of the sky and landed in my backyard and I still didn't freak out as much as you.”  
  
“Cuz you’re just that weird,” Mikey said. “But like… He _fell_ , out of the _sky_?”  
  
Gerard sighed. “Look, you can't just talk like he isn't sitting right here. He’s uh, he’s nice.”  
  
Mikey looked at Frank and finally said, “I’m Mikey.”  
  
“I know,” he said. “I'm Frank.”  
  
Mikey shifted his weight uncomfortably. “Okay. Can you tell me why you’re here?”  
  
Frank smiled and rubbed his hand over his face. “Like I told Gerard, I died once, spent some time in heaven, made a mistake and God had me thrown down here to be human all over again so I'd learn my lesson.”

Hell of a way to sum it up, Gerard thought with some heavy handed amusement.  
  
“Jesus Christ,” Mikey breathed.  
  
“Yeah, nice guy,” Frank smirked. “You'd like him.”  
  
Mikey just sat staring in quiet disbelief.  
  
“He says his wings won't last,” Gerard said softly. “He doesn't have anyone or anything, so I told him he could stay with me. You know, since he kinda landed here to begin with. Grandma used to say everything happens for a reason.”  
  
“Elena was mostly right about that,” Frank interjected. His eyes were blank as though he were far away in his mind. “It doesn’t always go that way… Some things just happen. Some things happen that aren't supposed to. But most things are.”  
  
“Damn,” Mikey breathed. “This guy knows shit.”  
  
“He spent time with God, Mikey. He probably knows more than we’re even meant to.”  
  
Mikey shook his head in disbelief and said, “So what now? He’s just gonna stay here forever?”  
  
“I mean… if he wants to. It’s better than being alone here all the time. He's not half bad company.”  
  
Mikey nodded, staying quiet awhile longer.  
  
“I'm sorry I freaked you out,” Mikey said. He smiled a little and added, “I'm not gonna get smited or anything, right?”  
  
“Nah,” Frank said. “I get it. Also I wouldn't worry too much about that happening to you.”  
  
“Great. I'll scratch off my list of things to stress about.”  
  
Frank laughed. “I like you, Mikey Way.”  
  
“Yeah… I uh, I think I like you too.”

~ ~ ~

The two days soon turned into two weeks. Frank’s wings remained; sparkling white and broad. He had a habit of flapping them back and forth experimentally, resulting in an odd sort of whoosh-snap sound as they parted the air and the feathers rustled against one another. Gerard wondered how long it would be before he lost them and worried for the day it would happen. He didn't dare to imagine how it must feel knowing they could go any day.  
  
“I kinda wish they'd just leave already,” Frank grumbled, leaning against the wall. “I hate being stuck here all the time. I can't get a job or anything. I'm going out of my fucking mind.”  
  
“Yeah,” Gerard said sympathetically. Being a shut-in could drive you crazy after long enough. “You wanna watch the Dawn Of The Dead remake?”  
  
Gerard had been hesitant to show him horror movies at first—worried that maybe he’d have some kind of angelic sensitivities or whatever—but Frank managed to surprise him by already knowing most of the really classic films and loving the newer ones. He'd chatter and shout at the TV at crucial moments.  
  
“Sure,” he sighed, dropping onto the sofa.  
  
Gerard sat next to him. Soft feathers brushed his arm as the angel shifted his weight. A chill ran through him and he thought of easing closer to absorb some of Frank’s emanating body heat. No sooner than the thought arrived he rejected it.

There was an alluring quality to Frank’s wings; artistic and straight out of a film or something. They were so white they made his skin appear almost olive toned and his hair dark as charcoal. The placement of them obscured several tattoos on Frank’s back. Splotches of ink were visible here and there; providing a mystique as to what those images were. He wondered if he'd be able to see them when the wings fell away.

His most prominent tattoo had to be the black scorpion resting on his neck. At first, it appeared threatening but Gerard liked it more each time he looked at it. More dark patterns crossed his hands, running all the way up his fingers and blending into the designs across his arms.  
  
“How come you have ‘Halloween’ tattooed on your hands?” he mused aloud.  
  
“Hmm?” Frank said. “Oh, it’s my birthday. My mom used to joke I was headed straight for hell ‘cause I was born on October 31st.” He folded his fingers together and said, “and if you look this way, it says ‘bookworm’.”  
  
“Shit, that's cool.”  
  
Frank snickered. “You're so easy, you whore.”  
  
Gerard threw his head back laughing.  
  
“You know what's nice?” Frank hummed after the joke died down. “You treat me really normal most of the time.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Just… I dunno, I feel like a lot of people would still be freaking out like I'm an abomination. Or worse, a miracle. But you just treat me like a normal dude half the time. Like I'm just some roommate you picked off the street. I'm trying to be human again and you make it… easier I guess.”  
  
Gerard nodded slowly. “You’re not half bad. I'm glad you landed in my backyard and not somebody else's, for what it's worth.”  
  
“Me too, man.” And then he hissed “Oh shit,” to the TV. “This one’s way more hardcore than the old one. Maybe not better, but man, that’s a lot of blood.” He laughed in a high cadence. “Fucking fast zombies. None of us would survive this one.”  
  
“Nah, I’d be the first to go,” Gerard said.  
  
“I feel like Mikey’d be good in a zombie apocalypse. He might make it. I sure as hell wouldn't, my immune system is so shitty I'd probably catch the virus from the _air_ or something. One whiff of zombie breath and I'm devouring flesh twenty minutes later.”  
  
“Great, now I have to worry about you eating my brain?”  
  
“Damn right. Zombie Me is coming for yours first, Gee.”  
  
“Remind me to buy a baseball bat and put nails in it later, so I've at least got a half a chance against the tiny terror.”  
  
“Oh you fucking didn't. You asshole,” Frank cackled, hitting him in the chest with a couch pillow. “Tiny terror,” he repeated under his breath.

Frank was the best person in the world to watch movies with, he soon realized. He was easily excitable and had a pleasing, high pitched sort of laugh. These factors combined with a gory sense of humor; he was fabulously fun to be around. The kind of guy that could make you forget the world sometimes and wonder instead if zombies could swim.  
  
“Nah man, I think those motherfuckers just swell up like corpses and float. Zombie buoys, bitch.”

“Oh noooo,” Gerard groaned at the mental image, laughing. “I'm scarred for life.”

They watched the film awhile more before Gerard said, “We should get you some more pants and stuff, you know.”  
  
Frank shifted uncomfortably. “You don't need to get everything for me. You and Mikey already got me my own phone and, I mean--”  
  
“I want to. I’m not gonna go broke getting stuff you need.”  
  
He'd already tried to offer to get Frank a bed or at least a cot, but he wouldn't let him. He insisted he liked the sofa.  
  
“Okay,” Frank sighed awkwardly. “And… thank you.”  
  
“Yeah, it's no problem, I swear. You've been wearing the same pants, and hell, underwear, for over a week.”  
  
“Yeah, well I've washed ‘em a few times, fuck you very much,” Frank smirked.  
  
“When?”  
  
“When you're at work, dummy.”  
  
Gerard felt his face run hot as he imagined Frank walking around their apartment stark naked. It was picturesque in his mind, he had to admit. Frank’s shimmery wings hovering above his ass, all of his tattoos bared… The thought felt treacherous somehow.  
  
It was tough shopping for Frank, because he felt strange clothes shopping for another guy. He'd gotten him a pair of shoes but they'd still been too big and in all honestly didn't suit him anyways. Frank would probably like to pick his own wardrobe and try things on.

In that moment, Gerard had a sudden and very good (or very bad) idea.

“You remember Angel from X-Men?” he said, chewing his lip.

“Uh… yeah.” Frank looked at him, clearly perplexed with a what-the-actual-hell-does-this-have-to-do-with-anything kind of expression.

“What if we could keep your wings strapped down like they did with him? Then you could come with me and pick your own stuff,” said Gerard.

“I don't--how? I don't follow.”

“Erm--well… I've got a couple extra belts. Maybe you could tuck ‘em close and we could strap them around your chest?”

Frank chewed on the thought and said, “It could work. Worth a try I guess.”

“Okay. Stand up and I’ll go get them.”

He retrieved the two leather belts and hesitantly reached around Frank’s chest.  
  
“You don't have to be quite so careful. You can touch ‘em, it's fine,” Frank said, meeting his eyes. “They don't hurt or anything. You aren't gonna break them.”  
  
Gerard nodded, holding his gaze a moment. Frank pulled his wings close to his body and Gerard placed his hand on one as he put the first belt around. He felt his thumb brisk against smooth, ink-stained skin and repressed a shiver.  
  
He cursed as the belt proved not to have enough holes punched in it. He measured the span with his finger and went to the kitchen to carve another hole with a steak knife.

“Hold still,” he told Frank softly. He took a deep breath while he secured the belt around his chest.

“Kinky,” Frank smirked at the black leather.

The joke earned a laughing snort from Gerard, sputtering and wheezing.  
  
“Some angel you are,” he giggled. “It seems secure so far. How’s it feel?”  
  
“It's pretty tight but it’s not bad. I can function, I think.”  
  
“Okay. No pain?”

Frank shook his head.

“Next one?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”  
  
Gerard strapped the second belt tightly around his waist and took a step back. “Can you move around okay? It's not too uncomfortable?”  
  
“No I think it's fine.”

It was fine for a moment, at least. Then Frank let out the world’s most comical yelp as the top belt slipped and managed to pinch his right nipple pretty fiercely. In a comic book, a bubble would have appeared over his head blaring “ _Ai-eeeeeeeeee_ ” in all caps.

“Oh shit,” Gerard said, repressing a laugh at the redness and crinkled expression Frank had. He fixed the belt carefully and Frank sighed with relief before finally bursting into laughter.

“Not my vibe,” he snickered. “Nipple play? Sure. Nipple _pain_? I'll pass.”  
  
Gerard laughed and nodded. He helped Frank into a shirt and leather jacket, finding he looked rather attractive in black. It went with his dark hair and made his eyes stand out. Not that those eyes didn't already; they were probably his most prominent feature.  
  
“Guess you finally get to leave the house. Let's go shopping.”  
  
Frank smiled and followed him out the door into the open autumn air.

~ ~ ~

Frank hadn't been outside since he’d fallen, Gerard realized. He all but pressed his face to the window trying to take in every ounce of Jersey scenery as they drove through town. The angel’s eyes darted from one place to another and eventually fixed on the clouded skies, peering toward the heavens with an expression of conjoined sorrow and wonderment.

Gerard kept Frank talking to try and minimize the anxiety he wasn't even trying to hide. Hell, Frank twitched every time there was a noise in the store like he worried he'd be attacked at any given moment. He watched people around them distrustfully; studying their faces in search of any suspicion or malicious intent.

“Thanksgiving is kinda soon,” Gerard said coolly, trying to busy the man’s mind.  
  
“You hate Thanksgiving,” Frank replied tersely.  
  
He worried his lip between his teeth. It was still alarming, some of the things the angel knew about him. Gerard wasn't special… Did Frank know these things about everyone? That had to be exhausting. Or was it just a few people? Surely he knew about more people than just the Way family. None of it made any sense to him.  
  
“Yeah, I guess I do most of the time. How do you feel about it?” Gerard sighed.  
  
“It's okay. I don't eat turkey, so that kills half the point. It was always nice being with my family though. Not that they're around anymore.”

Gerard shifted his weight between the balls of his feet and gave the holiday some thought.  
  
“You could could come with me. My mom used to love it if I'd bring a friend or… something.” He always brought a significant other to Thanksgiving dinner. He'd have to call his mom ahead of time and beg her to please please believe him that Frank was just a friend.  
  
A tiny, sweet smile crept across Frank’s face and lit up his hazel eyes. “I’d love to.”  
  
Nine shirts, three pairs of jeans, sets of underwear and socks, combat boots, and a decent coat later they went home.  
  
“You really didn't have to,” Frank said again as they entered the warm apartment.

The air of home enveloped the two of them. Gerard felt a sense of pride in the way this place had stopped feeling so lonely. It belonged to the both of them now.  
  
“Hm, so you keep telling me. It's fine, Frankie.”  
  
Frank winced sharply as he set shopping bags down.  
  
“You okay?” Gerard asked.  
  
“I think so,” Frank wheezed. “Just been strapped down too long I guess. Can you uh—can you get them off?”  
  
“Yeah,” Gerard said, not hesitating to strip the jacket and shirt off of Frank.

He felt his pulse jump and thought _no. Not Frank._ Gerard unbuckled both belts in turn and gasped as his wings unfurled with a soft thump. 

“Ohh that feels better,” Frank groaned borderline orgasmically, closing his eyes and letting his head roll back. “I am going to miss them,” he said.  
  
“They're stunning,” said Gerard.  
  
Frank smiled and looked at him.  
  
Before Gerard's mind could respond, Frank had wrapped his arms securely around him.  
  
“Thank you. For all of this,” he breathed. “For being you.”  
  
Gerard didn't say anything. He just wrapped his own arms around Frank and breathed him in, for all he was. The heady scent of his skin made his head rush. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as Frank wrapped his wings around him. He hoped he couldn't feel the thready tremble in his pulse.

The angel held him close. The tips of his wings rested tenderly against the backs of his legs. Frank may have been small but his wingspan was massive. His feathers were downy and shockingly warm against him, making Gerard feel truly safe. Here in this intimate scene the rest of the world didn't have to matter because there was only Frank. For just a moment, Gerard felt peace.

~ ~ ~

Frank scrubbed at his skin until it was a furious shade of red. He felt filthy and nothing made it better. Like dirt and grime trapped beneath his skin; no matter how hard he tried he'd never get at it.  
  
The heat against his feathers soothed him. He tipped his head back to let the shower water flow over his face. He was clean physically but his tarnished soul rested heavily within him. Even being sent to hell couldn't have felt as bad as this. _I’d say you're already there in your mind_ , God had said.  
  
Nothing felt right. All Gerard did was show him kindness and all Frank did was take it. He’d failed to protect him, and now he was here just to burden him down. Even his wings, which were still by all means beautiful, were just glorified dead weight. _Just. Like. Me_ , he thought.  
  
He held his breath as the water cascaded in thick ribbons across his face. His lungs burned but he just kept refusing them air. He wondered if he’d pass out if he did it long enough. God wouldn't let him die before Gerard. That would just be escaping his sentence. Still, he was curious of how much damage he could inflict on himself. Any pain would be better than what he had festering inside.  
  
He’d screamed when he’d first watched Gerard dig a razor blade through his own flesh. His chest ached seeing him taking such drastic measures to escape the pain pounding in his head. But now he understood. When the feelings beneath your skin became too much you had to find a way to let them out, even if it meant bleeding.  
  
His stubborn resolve cracked. He turned off the shower and finally filled his lungs with air. They burned deep inside and his head seemed to float toward the ceiling due to oxygen deprivation. Frank shook the wetness from his wings and toweled his hair. He couldn't bear the sight of himself in the mirror so he turned away. He wanted to scream, rage, destroy things, and destroy himself. But he couldn't.

Anything he did now only made him filthier. Anything he did only hurt Gerard more. This pain was his punishment; the price he paid for the mistakes he’d made. There would be no fighting it and no running from it.  
  
He hurried to get himself dressed (well, okay, half dressed) because his body was screaming for nicotine. He’d smoked before but he’d all but forgotten how much he liked it until Gerard had offered him a cigarette. Now he was hooked again but it didn't bother him. It was a welcome distraction and it wasn't like it could kill him anymore. Even cancer couldn't catch him.  
  
He treaded lightly around the apartment. He made sure his wings didn't brush across the walls or knock anything over. It was late and he didn't want to wake Gerard. He fished the mostly-empty pack of cigarettes from his pocket and crept out the back door. Gerard never minded smoking in the house but Frank enjoyed going outside in the late fall. The contrast of hot smoke in his lungs and cold air on his flesh was borderline euphoric.  
  
He stood for awhile, drawing smoke into his lungs and feeling the chill of the autumn night gnawing at his bare skin. For once he was almost as cold on the surface as he was beneath his flesh. As he fell deeper and deeper into thought he found himself lying down on the frosted grass. He spread his wings beneath him. It felt good to stretch them out. The chilled blades of dewy grass licked at his feathers.  
  
The sky above was clear of enough light pollution that he could see stars; scattered and faded. Like specks of paint on a black canvas. Moonlight reflected off the leaves of the solitary tree he'd mangled in his fall. It was a fractured kind of beauty.  
  
He flinched when heard the door click behind him.  
  
“What are you doing out here, Frank? It's fucking freezing,” Gerard said gently.  
  
“Yeah, sorry,” he said sitting up. “Just had to get some air and have a smoke I guess. It’s dark so nobody’s gonna see me. Didn't mean to wake you.”  
  
“Nah, I was up. Can't sleep worth a shit sometimes. Why don't you come inside?”  
  
“Yeah.”

Frank paused. He told himself no but the question fell off his tongue anyway. “Actually… You wanna lie down too for a little bit? I know I sound nuts but the sky looks good tonight.”  
  
Gerard pondered it for a moment and said, “Yeah, I’d like to. But you gotta hand over a cigarette.”  
  
Frank put the package and lighter in the other man’s palm and watched as he lit the end. He used a hand to protect the flames from the breeze. The flame flickered back in Gerard’s warm hazel eyes and kissed his face with a gentle glow.  
  
Gerard started to lie down but hesitated as he saw the wide spread of Frank’s wings over the grass.  
  
“You can lie down on them,” he said softly. “It won't hurt. It’s fucking cold anyway.”  
  
Gerard eased himself down onto his right wing, inches away from his side. Frank felt the rise and fall of his chest steadily against the hollow bones of his wing. The guilt crawled up from his stomach again. He shouldn't be toying with Gerard like this but he wanted him close. He wanted to press himself against him and drink in all his warmth. For all he was, he wanted Gerard. And it was wrong. He had been a guardian angel, hand chosen to watch over Gerard and protect him. The one thought he kept having was he failed him. He’d let awful things happen to him over the years. Things that added up and never healed. He didn't deserve the man’s friendship; his kindness; let alone his _love_.  
  
“Wow,” Gerard breathed.  
  
“What?” Frank asked.  
  
“Just… The sky. I dunno, I guess I tend to miss stuff like this most of the time. You get caught up in life. Beautiful things are always there but you miss them.”  
  
“Yeah. It's nice to just look toward heaven sometimes.”  
  
There was a quiet moment before Gerard said, “Do you miss it?”  
  
“What, heaven?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Almost all the time,” Frank sighed.  
  
“I know I would. Guess I always figured I’d go to hell though.”  
  
Frank scoffed. “You? Trust me, you're heaven-bound.”  
  
“I don't see how. I’ve done bad stuff, Frank.”  
  
“Just trust me,” he breathed. “I think I'd know.”  
  
“What's it like? Can you tell me?”

“It's just… Easy,” Frank said. “It's like here but better.”

“Describe it to me,” Gerard pleaded.

“You wake up there and you have wings. They sparkle and float against your back and don't weigh anything. They keep you warm. It looks a lot like earth, except there’s clouds instead of grass. It all just… Shines. You look around and nothing is wrong. Not a single thing.”

“Keep going,” the man said, his voice drenched in hushed awe.

“You’re still yourself but like, the best possible version. You get this feeling like you belong. You feel loved and peaceful. Things almost never hurt. It’s cold up there but you feel so warm inside that it's comfortable,” said Frank.

“Wow,” he whispered.

“I promise you'll see it,” Frank whispered.

Gerard hummed and shifted closer to him. The fabric of his shirt brushed against his bare skin. Frank he wrestled against himself. But Gerard was warm and gentle. He touched his head against his shoulder and lost himself in the way he felt and smelled.  
  
“Your hair’s still wet,” said Gerard.  
  
“Oh, sorry.” Frank started to shift away but Gerard just eased closer.  
  
“It’s not bad. It's cold out here and the rest of you’s warm.”  
  
“Perks of having wings: you're a walking blanket for all your friends,” he joked.  
  
Gerard laughed and after a moment said, “Can I ask you something personal?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“How come you know so much about my family? Is it that way with everyone, or just us?”  
  
“Just you, Gee,” Frank murmured.  
  
“I—oh. Why?”  
  
“I just do,” Frank breathed into his neck. He wished he had the guts to tell him who he used to be.  
  
They stayed there awhile, watching the clouds of cigarette smoke rise and dissipate, talking and leaning on each other under the crescent moon.

~ ~ ~

Frank wasn’t a light sleeper by nature. Waking up each morning was comparable to rising from the dead. But that early morning as Gerard sipped his coffee and got ready for work, he was roused by a soft knock at the door. A warm familiarity prodded him to sit up.  
  
“I'll get it,” Gerard said softly. Deftly, he threw a blanket over Frank’s wings to hide them.  
  
The door opened to a face he knew well. Hands folded over an orange envelope, standing tall yet humble in the doorway, was Ray.  
  
“I’m here for Frank. I brought him something he's gonna need,” he said softly.

Gerard stepped back, looking impressively confused. “I uh, okay. Frank?”

Frank stood up from the couch and wondered for a moment if Ray had been thrown down to earth too. He knew better when he studied his face. His eyes shined and his voice was smooth; angelic. He still had the grace of God running deep in him, making his presence warm and unearthly serene.  
  
Gerard stammered more as Frank gently nudged past him.  
  
“Hi, Ray,” he said.

He felt his eyes grow hot with, fuck, more tears. He didn't think, just wrapped his arms around the large angel and squeezed him tight. Ray returned the embrace, light wings brushing his own heavier ones.  
  
“You keeping your shit together up there?” Frank asked, letting him go.  
  
“Better than you ever did,” Ray teased. “You making it okay down here?”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, Gerard uh, takes good care of me. What’d you get sent to walk among men for? Not something that gets done a lot.”  
  
“Gotta give you this,” Ray said simply, putting the orange envelope in his hands. “You won't do too great without it.”  
  
He’d almost forgotten about this, having been lost in the guilt and self pity he’d experienced.

“Knew I’d get it eventually,” Frank said, smiling. “I had no idea you'd be the one to bring it though.”  
  
“Yeah well, I asked to.”  
  
Frank’s eyebrows rose. “You shitting me?”  
  
“Course not. I miss you, Frankie. I check on you from time to time but you know firsthand it's not the same.”  
  
“Thank you,” Frank said softly. “That means a lot to me, Ray.”  
  
“I know it does. Now I've got to get going before someone gets himself in trouble.”  
  
Ray knew what Frank wasn't telling Gerard and he was protecting his secret. Thank you, he thought.  
  
“Yeah,” Frank said grinning. “Yeah, get your ass back up there. And send Saint Mary my love.”  
  
“She knows. But I will anyway.”  
  
And Ray vanished like he'd never set foot on earth in the first place. The warm feeling left with him and all at once Frank was reminded how cold inside he felt, like an empty space in the cavern of his chest. He clicked the door shut and pressed his forehead against it somberly.  
  
Next Gerard’s hand was on his shoulder, long fingers just skimming his collarbone.  
  
“Are you alright?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah,” Frank said, turning to face him. “It’s all good. That was um, my best friend.”  
  
Shouldn't have said that, he realized. He saw a touch of jealousy flicker in Gerard’s eyes and watched him brush it away a moment later. Ray may have been his best friend but Gerard was his everything. He kicked himself for all the things he wasn't strong enough to say.  
  
“His name’s Ray. We uh, worked together up there.”  
  
“That's cool,” Gerard said stoically. He pointed to the package in his hands. “So, what’s this?”  
  
Frank sat on the couch and opened it. He thumbed through papers and said, “Official documentation. Social security card, driver’s license… stuff I'll need to be able to live safe down here.”  
  
Gerard looked like he was about to crack up. “So like… a divine severance package.”  
  
Frank scowled. “It doesn’t work like— It, uh—,” he sighed, and laughed. “You know what, it pretty much is. A divine severance package. Fuck.”  
  
“That's the best thing I've heard. Like, ever,” Gerard said, shaking his head. “God gave you paperwork.”  
  
“God sure did, fuck you very much,” Frank chuckled. He held up a birth certificate. “It's good paperwork too. ‘Frank Anthony Iero’. I'm 25 years old as of last month.”  
  
“Wow that's rad,” said Gerard.  
  
“Yeah it kinda is. Legally, I never died. I was just born a lot later than I actually was.”  
  
“How’s that feel?” Gerard asked, meeting his eyes.  
  
Frank sat forward, clasping his hands together. “A little bit like a second chance, I suppose.”

~ ~ ~

“Oh man, work was crazy today,” Gerard sighed as he stepped into the apartment. “I mean, you gotta hear about--” he stopped, and felt a chill crawl down his spine.

Where the hell was Frank?  
  
“Frank?” he called.

Nothing. This wasn't right… Frank was always parked on the couch by the door when he came home. But now the living room was vacant and deathly silent; soulless. 

 _Relax_ , he told himself. A number of awful scenarios ghosted through his mind but he brushed them away. Then he felt something odd under his foot. Beneath his shoe was a single white feather. He picked it up and ran his thumb across the silken surface thoughtfully.

He let out a puzzled sigh as he took in the sight of the room. Feathers on the couch, on the floor, even on the coffee table. Just a handful, scattered across the living room; all of them long, all of them glimmering white. He cast it aside with his jacket, shoes, and keys.

A trail was now apparent; more feathers leading through the hallway to tell a story of sorrow. He followed it into the bathroom and felt his stomach lurch. He knew this would happen eventually but he never expected it to look anything like this.  
  
Frank leaned forward with his face in the toilet, heaving and groaning as he vomited. Feathers were everywhere now; huge piles of them strewn across the floor, the sink, and even in the bathtub. He recalled the broad, majestic span of Frank’s wings. They had been awe-inspiring. But never again. Now they draped formlessly across his back and sides, wilted and mangled as though they had become softened wax. He recalled the imagery of Icarus with his melted wings. It was like someone had hacked his beautiful wingspan to pieces. Like he'd been beaten without mercy.  
  
The worst part was the blood that seeped down Frank’s back in long trails from their join at his shoulder blades. They had been smeared across the floor in grotesque scarlet splotches. Oozing red stripes of the sticky red liquid stained his skin, rising from within.  
  
“Oh, Frankie,” Gerard breathed.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, and put his hand on Frank’s head. Frank twitched and leaned weakly into his touch as he smoothed his hair. He moaned softly.  
  
“I didn't know it could be th-this bad.”

He seized and vomited again. “I can't... Can’t stop throwing up. It, _gah_ , hurts,” he murmured.  
  
“I know,” Gerard whispered. “I know. It won't last, I promise.”  
  
“It's too fast, it's all too fast.” Frank lifted his head to look at him with bloodshot eyes. He sounded half delirious; trapped between two worlds that didn't collide very well.  
  
“How long has it been happening?” he asked, kneeling beside him.

The bathroom reeked profusely but he’d had enough hangovers not to be fazed by it.  
  
“I dunno,” Frank spluttered. “An hour? M-Maybe? It was like they just collapsed.” He groaned from deep in his stomach, rasping and desperate. “Like the bones were just—just gone. Like they'd disintegrated or some…something.”  
  
He vomited again, and Gerard felt him tremble under his hand. Frank’s knuckles were white as he gripped the back of the toilet as though it were a lifeline. He held the front of his hair away from his mouth, and whispered soft words to try and comfort him. Frank took to apologizing incessantly after awhile, though he couldn't understand what he possibly had to be sorry for.  
  
“It's okay,” he kept saying back. “It’s all going to be okay.”  
  
“You're just—you're so, so gentle, Gerard.” Frank coughed. “I don't know how you're s-so fucking gentle.”  
  
Gerard shushed him and ran his fingers through his hair, along his neck, and behind his ears. He stroked his skin tenderly in an attempt to let him know he wasn't alone. This pain wouldn't last.

Beads of sweat rose from his fevered skin, making him shiver more. He sat with him, giving reassuring words and gentle touches. The whole world could pass him by and he would still stay on this bathroom floor with Frank to keep him from suffering this alone. He couldn't imagine this sort of pain but he knew plenty of his own.  
  
He kept an eye on his watch through the hours and silently willed this to end soon. Frank would need fluids, a lot of them. He couldn't fathom how he was still vomiting; how he still had anything left to throw up. Eventually it turned to dry heaving, which was almost as awful, as Frank heaved and quaked with agony and exhaustion.

He stared at a dried spatter of blood against the white tile floor. It resided between his feet. More blood even stained his socks.  
  
Deep into the night, Frank said, “You gotta go to bed, Gee.”  
  
“You're outta your head if you think I'm leaving you like this,” said Gerard.  
  
“Please?” he whimpered.  
  
“No. Absolutely not,” Gerard said firmly.  
  
“Y-you've got work,” Frank argued.  
  
“The hell I don't, it's Friday.”  
  
Frank nodded, and sat back on his heels, just a little. He tipped his head back, and whimpered bitterly as more feathers hit the floor. It almost looked peaceful as they fell; floating softly from his back onto the tile. As serene as it seemed, it must have been agonizing, because Frank sobbed and bit down hard on his lip.

The full length of his wings had fallen from his figure and now coated the floor. Only a few remained; bloodstained and ragged. It wasn't long before his nose began to bleed too. It flowed in a crimson stream across his chapped lips.  
  
Gerard gathered a wad of toilet paper and put it to Frank’s nose. “Tip your head forward, and hold that there, okay?”  
  
Frank did as he was told, thanking Gerard profusely. His green eyes were vacant of any emotion; dark and puffy.  
  
“You gotta quit that. I care about you, of course I'm going to help you.”  
  
“I knew it’d be bad, I didn't know it'd be like this,” Frank said. “I had no… I can't….,” he faded back into his own head.

In all his life, he had never seen someone so exhausted. He seemed like he'd just been beaten down into the ground. Like he was clinging to life itself.  
  
“I know. I had no idea either,” Gerard breathed. “I'd have been home earlier.”  
  
“D-don't,” said Frank. “You don't owe me anything. I don't deserve--”  
  
“Stop it,” Gerard said sharply. “Don't you dare say that.”  
  
Frank was stone silent, still holding the paper to his bleeding nose. Spots of red sank through it and stained his fingers.  
  
“You've lost so much fluid,” said Gerard. “I'm going to go get you some water, okay? You gonna be okay for a minute?”  
  
Frank nodded and Gerard all but sprinted to the kitchen and back. He put the water to Frank’s lips and held his hand as he drank. Not two minutes later, he threw it back up, and Gerard gave him more in the hope that some of it would be absorbed. Every second was almost too painful to watch as choked moans indicated Frank’s suffering. Time slowed, and Gerard felt himself growing smaller. He was helpless, watching a reverse miracle of sorts.  
  
The last feather fell at 1:43AM. Frank’s eyes were pink, distant, and tearstained. A blood vessel had burst beside his left iris from the strain.  
  
Exhaustion played Gerard but he knew it was nothing compared to what the other man was going through.

“It’s over,” Frank breathed, like a euphoria had washed over him as the pain faded. He rocked himself back and forth softly. He head lolled forward limply.  
  
“Yeah. It's over, Frankie. No more, okay?”

Frank hummed distantly with his eyes closed. Even his eyelids were swollen and red. His face retained a ghostly pallor, washed in an odd white hue. It was like he'd seen all the life drained out of him one piece at a time.  
  
Sobbing ensued as Frank turned himself on his heels to take in the sight of the dried blood and feathers. They encased the entire bathroom in a sea of rusty brown and muddled white.

“Oh God, they're… they're gone. My wings… I lost them.”  
  
“I'm sorry,” Gerard said, feeling a tear roll across his own cheek. “Just breathe, Frankie. I'll get you cleaned up, okay?”  
  
Frank had no strength left to fight him with. Gerard wet a washcloth in the sink, and touched it to the dried blood on his back. Droplets of water ghosted down his spine, stained to a rosy hue. Frank slumped against him, pressing his head to his shoulder as the filth was wiped away. He let out soft little gasps as the cloth touched his wounds. A deep gash nestled against each shoulder blade. It was all there was to tell the world of the wings he'd had until now. He was so damn pale, Gerard worried he'd lost way too much blood.  
  
He felt an odd hybrid of relief and sorrow for Frank. He could move on with his life now but he would always have scars here to remind him of what he'd lost. He dug through the drawer and found a small first aid kit Mikey had forced him to buy months ago.

He treated and bandaged the wounds and touched his hand to Frank’s forehead. The fever had finally broken; leaving behind a soft chill to his skin. He slipped an Advil between his lips and gave him more water as he downed the pill. The dry skin of his mouth felt rough against his thumb.

 _Please don't throw up_ , he pleaded internally.  
  
He was too dehydrated and weak to stand or move much. There wasn't a chance he’d be able to walk tonight. Gerard wondered if he was strong enough to carry him to the couch. He'd have to be gentle but he was sure he could. Frank was fucking tiny.  
  
“Gotta get you to bed,” he said softly. “Can you get your arm around my neck?”  
  
He nodded faintly against him. His sweaty hair tickled his skin. Frank clumsily slung his arm across his shoulder. His arm rested solidly there, lifeless and heavy. Gerard reached under his knees and lower back. He braced himself.  
  
He was heavier than he expected but not by much. Gerard was able to support him well enough. Frank seemed altogether vacant but nestled his head into his chest. His dark hair was soft against his collarbone. He’d either fallen asleep or passed out from the fatigue.  
  
Feet-first, Gerard laid him down. He draped a blanket across him and tucked it under his shoulders to secure it. Against his better judgment he pressed a soft kiss onto his forehead. The Jersey night bathed them in darkness and silence.  
  
Frank’s fingers wrapped around his forearm, and he hummed his name under his breath. His face flushed, and he whispered good night in response, along with a promise that things would get better. He wanted him to know he would always be safe here with him. He couldn't explain the invisible bond he felt but he was past caring. It was there; as real and alive as either of them had ever been.  
  
Gerard smiled, smoothed his hair from his face, and left him to sleep.  
  
The bathroom looked like a war zone. He sighed and set to cleaning up the carnage. All of these feathers had once been Frank’s wings, he thought sadly. No longer a gorgeous wingspan to inspire. They had been reduced to nothing more than a scattered array of mangled feathers and crusted-over blood.

He could have waited until morning to clean up but he didn't think Frank needed to see it again. If it were him he'd want to turn a blind eye and move on. Just like he had with the last truly awful night he'd had. Don't think about it, he told himself.  
  
It took over an hour to gather the feathers into a garbage bag, wash the blood from the floor and counter, and rinse the dried remains of vomit from the edges of the toilet bowl. The bathroom had filled with the stench of bleach but it was still better. All he could think of was sleep. There was nothing but the singular thought of tired. There was no more capacity in his head for anything else.  
  
He passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow. His last thought was hoping Frank would feel better in the morning. The poor guy deserved a clean break.  
  
If this was what a fall from grace looked like, he prayed he'd never have to survive one.

~ ~ ~

Frank didn't speak a word the next day. He sat stone-faced, mourning the loss of his wings. Gerard didn’t know what he could say about the situation that would merit any positive results, so he sat quietly with him again. He didn't know if his presence helped or hurt, but he knew he never trusted himself to be alone when he was upset. Maybe Frank was the same way.  
  
He remained unfazed by the day’s few events but ate and drank when Gerard prompted him to. The hours fell away with the pages of a book and punk rock over headphones. He kept himself busy, for Frank’s sake, and found himself sketching the memory of him lying shirtless in the grass. Wings in full spread, cigarette between his lips; it was a good image.  
  
As the sun left New Jersey behind for the night, a random alien movie played on TV. With a few final strokes of an ink pen, the drawing was complete. As Gerard began to close his sketchbook, Frank inched across the couch and rested his head on his shoulder. His warm breath tickled his neck and flustered him. All at once he felt like he shouldn't have drawn the picture.  
  
“Wow,” Frank said, his voice filled with hushed wonder. “You drew me?”  
  
“I… um… yeah,” Gerard stammered. “There was a moment where you just looked so serene, you know? You spoke of heaven and the way you looked and sounded was kind of inspiring.”  
  
“I don't know what to say.”  
  
“You don't have to say anything,” Gerard said. “I just wanted to draw it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Frank said softly. “I just… damn. You got all my tattoos right and everything.”

Frank touched the scorpion tattoo on his neck softly. He brushed his fingertips over its legs and tail. It obviously meant a lot to him.  
  
Gerard hummed and rested his face in Frank’s hair. He hoped he couldn't feel his heart trying to burst in his chest. He prayed he wouldn't note his shaky breathing. They stayed there a moment before he felt the smaller man shiver.  
  
“Hey, do you want me to go get you a shirt?” Gerard said. He kicked himself for not realizing sooner that without wings, Frank could wear them now. Poor guy had to be really damn cold. The heat of his extra appendages had kept him warm before.  
  
“Oh,” Frank said, as though it hadn't occurred to him either. “Would you? That’d be nice.”  
  
Gerard fetched it for him and sat back down. Frank slipped it over his head.

He hummed, “Shit, that feels good.”  
  
The two sat close on the sofa as Frank took in the details of his portrait. “It's just so amazing,” he said. “You've always been so talented with this stuff.”  
  
There was the pang of realizing again that somehow, Frank knew him before he fell. It was unsettling and  
almost creepy. In spite of it he also felt understood.  
  
“Guess I finally get to get off my ass and get a job,” Frank said later.  
  
“Yeah?” Gerard said. “That what you want to do?”  
  
“Mmhmm.” Frank nodded. “I like working.”  
  
“Do you know what kind of job you want?”  
  
“Something low-profile, I guess. Simple. There's a diner pretty close by that looked cool. Waiting tables isn't so bad. I used to do that when I was like, nineteen.”  
  
“Okay,” he said. “We can go first thing in the morning, if you want.”  
  
“Rad.”  
  
A smile played on Frank’s lips as he added, “Hey… can I drive? I do know how, it's just been forever.”  
  
Gerard laughed. “I don't see why the hell not. God literally gave you a license. Who am I to argue with that shit?”  
  
The next morning he was sure anything must be possible because Frank was awake before him.  
  
“Got breakfast done,” he grinned, well, angelically. The ironic thought made him smile.  
  
“Awesome,” he yawned, still half asleep.

He rubbed his eyes, and felt the warmed porcelain of a coffee mug placed in his hand. He grasped it, staring sleepily into the pitch-black liquid. Ripples crossed the surface as he moved.  
  
Frank set a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon down on the table in front of Gerard. He smiled gratefully. The guy put his own cooking skills to shame, he found. He always ended up getting the eggs either too runny or too dry. Frank’s were a joyful yellow color with a balanced consistency. He smiled to himself, thinking he'd be worth keeping around for this quality alone.

“Sleep okay?” Frank asked him. He leaned close enough that Gerard could faintly smell his morning breath, which actually wasn't as bad as some of the guys’ he'd dated in the past. He still had dark circles beneath his eyes but they had faded now. Some of the warm vigor he typically possessed had returned to his face.  
  
“Yeah, you?”  
  
“Pretty damn good actually. I dunno, I think I'm still fucked up from—“ He didn't look like he wanted to say it. “From the other night.”  
  
Gerard nodded sympathetically. Everyone had nights they'd rather not remember. But then, it's the ones that are unclear in your mind that you always pay for most.  
  
“Anyway,” Frank said. “I'm ready whenever you wanna get going. I've got all my shit together. There was a wallet in that package, can you believe it?”  
  
“Damn,” Gerard said. “God thinks of everything.”  
  
Frank let out a high-pitched laugh. “Well, duh.”  
  
Gerard smiled and flipped him off with his spare hand while he fished a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He slid the package across the table to Frank after he lit up.  
  
They ate, smoked, had no less than three cups of coffee, and eventually made it out of the house.

~ ~ ~

Frank thought he’d be rusty at driving but no sooner than he turned the ignition did it come back to him. Muscle memory, he supposed. Like riding a bike; you never really forget how. He was soothed by the rush of pavement beneath the vehicle. Buildings and bright trees passed by. His world almost felt okay for a while.  
  
He let out a sharp breath as he parked the car in front of the diner and rubbed his sweating palms across his jeans anxiously.  
  
“You sure about this?” Gerard asked.  
  
“Pretty damn sure,” Frank sighed, tipping his head back to gaze at the gray ceiling. “Just… anxious, I guess. I haven't talked to anybody but you and Mikey since I fell, you know? What if I say something stupid?”  
  
Gerard put his hand on his shoulder. Frank met his eyes.  
  
“You'll do fine. Just don't be too hard on yourself and relax. It’s not the end of the world if you fuck up a little.”  
  
“Promise?” he grinned.

“Sure, promise,” said Gerard.

With a subtle nod, Frank took a deep breath and said, “Alright, I’m going.”  
  
“Good luck,” Gerard said.  
  
“No such thing,” he smirked, leaving the other man with a comically perplexed expression as he strode away into the diner.  
  
Sunday mornings were slow; he knew that from having waited tables before. Half of the consumer populous was at church and the other half still asleep. The rush would come at lunchtime just before noon. The building’s layout was straightforward; there was an open dining area, a bar, and a swinging door leading to the kitchen.

Chairs were still stacked upside down on top of tables. The freshly-cleaned floor hadn't been tainted by spilled food, drinks, and various filth tracked in from people’s shoes. The atmosphere was relaxed as well as puzzling. One half of the establishment looked like a place you had innocent breakfast dates, or took your kids, or even had lunch with grandparents. The other side, with the bar, looked like a place you came to drown yourself in alcohol, smoke, and chat up sleazy girls. Somehow it all blended together without too much chaos, he supposed.

A very bored-looking bartender stood cleaning a glass. The man had dusty blond hair and cold blue eyes. A ring adorned his bottom lip and he thought cool.  
  
Frank approached him and cleared his throat. “Hey man. I'm looking to apply for a job, you got any positions open?”  
  
“Yeah,” he said flatly. “I’ll get you an application from the back.” He looked back over his shoulder and added, “I’m Bob, by the way.”  
  
“Nice to meet you, I'm Frank.”  
  
When Bob returned, he put the application and a pen on the bar in front of him. “If you wanna fill it out here, go ahead.”  
  
Frank nodded and picked up the pen. When he'd filled out the three pages, he shakily passed it across the bar.

Bob’s expression didn't change as he picked it up, skimmed over it, and said, “Yeah you're hired.”  
  
“What, seriously? You don't need to talk to the manager?”  
  
“I did, considering I am the manager. And the owner for that damn matter. Anyway, we’re short on waitstaff right now. Just lost two guys. One quit and the other got his dumbass fired. The rest of the staff will be glad to have you.”  
  
“Thank you,” Frank sighed.  
  
Bob shook his head and set back to polishing the glass.

“Ah, save it, cupcake. I'm busting my balls here. We need all the help we can get. When can you start?”  
  
“I uh… Tomorrow morning?”  
  
“Great, be here at 9. You'll need a white dress shirt and some black pants.”  
  
“Okay,” Frank said. “And the neck tattoos won't be a problem, right?”  
  
Bob scoffed and pointed at the ring in his lip. “Dude, we’re a low-class diner with a bar, in New Jersey. What do you think?”  
  
“Sounds perfect,” Frank laughed. “I'll see you tomorrow morning then.”  
  
“Don't be late!” Bob called after him.  
  
“Sure thing, man.”  
  
He stepped out the door and into the car. Mere seconds passed before Gerard asked, “So how’d it go?”  
  
Frank grinned and bit his lip. “I got the job.”  
  
“What? Just like that?” Gerard said enthusiastically. “That's fucking awesome!”  
  
“Yeah! I'm excited about it. You mind if we make one more stop to grab my uniform? I can pay you back after I start work.”  
  
“‘Course,” he said. “And don't worry about it.”  
  
Frank sighed. “Okay, but you've got to at least let me pay rent and get groceries sometimes, Gee.”  
  
Gerard reluctantly agreed. “You don't have to worry so much about it though.”  
  
“Look, you're doing a bang-up job of taking care of yourself already, I don't want you trying to keep my ass off the street too. My mom didn't raise a freeloader.”  
  
Gerard laughed. “Fine, you win. Pay part of the water bill or whatever. We’ll figure it out. Anyway, how’s the boss?”  
  
“Heh. Got hired by the owner. He's kinda strange… Has a really rad lip ring and these eyes that are void of all feeling. Talks really crassly. He seems like a good guy though.”  
  
“Nice,” Gerard said.  
  
“Yeah. He's the bartender too. And the manager, actually,” he rambled with a soft laugh. “I'm pretty sure his face only has one expression. Bob looks like the embodiment of perpetual boredom. Or apathy. I haven't figured that out yet.”  
  
“God, I love people like that. It's just funny, you know? It’s like nothing affects them much and it's weird. Not a bad thing, just strange.”

Frank worked the steering wheel between his hands. It was solid and familiar.  
  
“Yeah,” Frank chuckled. “Unlike you. I swear I've seen you make the most insane faces sometimes. Your expressions have expressions.”  
  
“Hmm, fuck you too,” Gerard said, grinning.  
  
After picking up clothes for work and (upon Gerard’s insistence) going out for coffee they went home.  
  
_Home_. The concept felt strange in Frank’s head; that Gerard’s apartment had somehow become just that. In a way, he felt that Gerard himself was his home. The only thing he had left now.  
  
He'd build upward. He'd keep this job, make friends, and try to move on. It was all he could do to try and survive like this.  
  
“Thanks for letting me drive,” Frank said coolly, putting the keys in the other man’s hand.  
  
“No problem. I think you enjoy it more than me.”  
  
“I've always liked it. It's better now though. Makes me feel more… I dunno, normal.”  
  
“Human, right?” Gerard said knowingly.  
  
“Yeah,” Frank said, looking into his hazel eyes. “It’s good to feel human.”  
  
Too human, he thought as he watched Gerard taking off his jacket. He was beautiful. His shirt hung below his collarbones; the dark blue fabric contrasting his porcelain skin. Frank forced himself to look away. He was a monster, thrown from heaven itself. Gerard may have been strong but he was fragile in ways Frank knew all too well. With a toxic touch, he'd never be good enough. He was dangerous, and he wouldn't touch Gerard.

He'd hurt him enough.

~ ~ ~ 

Gerard lazed around at 7:16AM trying to find motivation to get out of bed. A sliver of weak sunlight seeped through the space between the curtain and the window. He didn't want to go to work, but it was Monday, and bills were due next week…

As he began to rouse himself from the warm cocoon of sheets and covers, motivation came in the form of a sudden “ _Thump_!”; followed by a hushed groan of “ _Shit_.”

He found Frank in the living room, slumped across the coffee table, gripping on for dear life.

“I have no balance!” he cried. “I've got work in less than two hours and I'm so fucking fucked.”

Gerard winced. “Just, um, relax, okay? We’ll figure it out. Can you describe how it feels?”

Frank nodded slowly, panting. “It just started happening. It’s like… I dunno, like my equilibrium is gone. I keep falling forward and I can't get my goddamn feet to act right.”

His first thought was that it had to be related to the loss of his wings. It was the only thing that had changed. But why hadn't it started right away? Had the shock kept him from it until now? There was only one way to tell.

“Hey, can you stand up? I want to see something,”

“Okay,” Frank said skeptically, pushing himself up from the coffee table.

He took in the sight; Frank stood at a tilted axis, all his weight bearing forward. It had to be more psychological than physical. He'd heard of people losing limbs and having difficulties processing it… Could it be the same with wings? They were like limbs, right?

“You lost your wings, Frankie,” he said softly.

Frank looked at him with a puzzled expression before the realization crept over his face.

“I still feel like they should be there,” Frank said defeatedly.

“I know. But it's what’s messing up your balance; you're leaning forward too much. And they probably stabilized you, right?”

He nodded somberly.  
  
Gerard ran his fingers through his hair, trying to conjure a solution. Frank would have to learn to rebalance… Maybe he could help him.

“I’ve got a thought,” he said. “You've got to fix your balance, what if I kept you lined up? Like physical therapy or something.”

Frank was quiet, but stood up further; legs shaking. Gerard lined himself up behind him and gripped his shoulders.

“Okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” Frank sighed.

His head tipped back and rested against his shoulder a moment. He found it odd; the way he flinched at every touch as though he were scared but then drank in every bit of proximity while searching for more. Frank straightened against him so his posture was even with his own and Gerard eased him away. He faltered at first, reaching back for the coffee table, but Gerard steadied him.

Once he stood solidly, Gerard eased away from his back and stood at arm’s length. He kept enough positive resistance to keep him from leaning too far forward. The goal was to help him rebalance himself.

“Okay, now walk,” he said.

Frank took trepidatious steps forward with shaking knees but gained confidence the more he took. They practiced walking the course of the apartment several times. Gerard coached him to keep his shoulders back and his spine straight, to walk on his heels instead of his toes, and to relax his knees a little. When he seemed sure of himself, Gerard released his grip and let him walk on his own.

Frank sighed with relief at the steadiness of his footing.

“God, I hate this,” he said. “I don't like needing help.”

“It's okay,” he reassured him. “You're probably just in shock. Kinda like losing a leg, right?”

“Something like that, I guess.”

“You think you're okay to work?”

“Shit, I hope so.”

“Me too,” Gerard said. “It’s gotta suck being stuck here all the time. You should let me check your back before you go, though. The bandages probably need changed again.”

Reluctantly, Frank let him lead him into the bathroom. He stripped his shirt off, and turned his back to him. Gingerly, Gerard peeled the bandages from his skin. Indentations were left in his skin where they had been.

“Holy shit,” he whispered.

“Oh fuck, what?” Frank groaned dejectedly.

“No, it's not bad just… look.” He turned the man around so he could see his own back in the mirror.

“Huh,” Frank breathed. “Imagine that.”

No more than two days had passed, yet the wounds had closed, leaving no more than two nasty scars; thick pink lines curving against his shoulder blades. Like an injury from years ago. Gerard touched them tenderly, running his thumbs along the raised skin.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

Frank shook his head, and looked away from his reflection.

“Not physically,” he said softly.

Gerard felt a pang in his chest. He wanted to pull Frank close; to hold his head against his chest, stroke his hair; and tell him it would be okay. But it didn't feel right… Like somehow that would be taking advantage of him, half naked and wounded inside and out. So he settled for touching his shoulder gently and handing him his shirt. Frank thanked him and slipped it back over his head.

Taking a minute to compose himself and put a casual tone back in his voice, he said, “So I’ve got to be at work at nin’s too, okay if I drop you off a couple minutes early and pick you up later?”

“That’s fine,” Frank replied flatly. “I’ll be ready in a minute. You want eggs or toast?”

“Ah… toast. Thanks, Frankie.”

And so the morning went, like everything was fine. Like Frank had always been there.

~ ~ ~

After breakfast, Frank turned his back and glared at the scars in the mirror. He loathed them; a physical reminder of what he'd become. He considered getting a new tattoo to cover them, but it felt wrong somehow. He wasn't the kind of man that ran from punishment. If they were there, he deserved them.

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. The urge to tell Gerard the truth ate him from the inside out. His throat burned with it as he remembered the way he'd touched these scars; warm and gentle, curious yet sorrowful. He deserved to know why he was there. He deserved to know what he was.

But he was a coward. He kept his mouth shut and couldn't bear the concept of coming clean. Gerard was all he had left. He didn't want to see the hatred he felt for himself in the man’s eyes. He didn't want the gentle touches and peaceful breakfasts to stop.

And the worst part was, he wouldn't blame him for hating him. He'd done him wrong; failing to protect him when he was the one entrusted to do it. Every scar Gerard bore was his failure. How could he face that?

Interrupting his thought process was Gerard knocking on the bathroom door, asking if he was okay, urging him to go to work or else he'd be late. He slipped the shirt back on, ran a hand through his hair, and stepped out of the room.

He repeatedly reassured him that he’d be fine at work and for God’s sake not to worry, he was okay. He said it once as they left the apartment, again on the drive over, and a third time as he stepped out of the car.

“I'll see you at five-ish,” Gerard said. “Have a good day, and text me if something goes wrong.”

A bell sounded cheerfully against the front door as he opened, contrasting the ringing in his ears.

“Man of the hour,” Bob said tonelessly. “Good to see you in early. Jamia’s our best server, she’ll show you the ropes today.”

As though summoned, a girl with dark hair and a bright expression walked to the bar.

“It's about damn time we got new meat,” she said with a soft voice. “My social life’s gone to shit because I'm only ever here.”

She extended a hand. “I’m Jamia. I keep this place running, whether Bob is gonna admit it or not.”

Bob smiled sarcastically.

Frank introduced himself, shaking the hand she'd offered.

“Ooh, firm handshake,” she said. “You'll be good here.”

She gestured for him to follow her, which should have been easy, considering she was so small. But it wasn't; she was fast. She seemed to hop from end to end of the diner in a matter of seconds, leaving his head spinning. Like a little dark fairy she smiled all day and cussed relentlessly.

“Keep up, pretty boy.” She smirked over her shoulder. “We pride ourselves on fast service. Or I do, anyway.”

She didn't slow her pace to instruct him but instead kept him attentive by forcing him to think fast. Fortunately, they day started slow, so by the time the lunch crowd rolled in, Jamia had decided he was ready for her to throw him in the water.

“Sink or swim,” she’d said.

He liked serving; liked talking to people and reading their expressions as they conversed with one another. The work was difficult, but it at least kept his mind off of the tougher portions of his life. Working had always helped him cope. In the diner, he was just like everyone else. In the diner the only troubles were belligerent customers and spilled drinks.

“Keep working this good, I'm gonna keep you as a pet,” Jamia teased as he carried a tray in each arm to a table in his section.

“Nah you don't want me, I bite,” he laughed.

“Nice,” she snickered, turning to a table of her own.

He made it through the day with no major accidents, though he did earn himself a few perplexed expressions when he swung too far around a corner or danced over his own feet confusedly. His balance would need more work, but he supposed he would be fine without Gerard needing to help him any more. Forget phantom limb syndrome, who knew you could have phantom _wing_ syndrome? He felt like he should still have pounds and pounds of muscle, bone, and feathers on his back. It was like any minute he’d lose his footing or somehow float to the ceiling unencumbered.

His and Jamia’s shift ended at four-thirty, which left him an hour or so to wait for Gerard. Sensing his anxiety, Jamia nudged him onto a barstool and sat next to him.

“You drink much?” she asked.

She rested her elbows on the bar.

He paused and tried to remember what he used to like.

“Fair amount,” he said.

“Cool,” she said. “I'll buy you a beer, since you were actually competent help today.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Ah, don't thank me. After the last couple weeks I've had here, it's the least I can do.” She smirked and made a point of adding loudly, “Since Bobby can't keep this joint staffed worth a shit. I'm practically all he’s got left.”

Bob looked incredibly tired as he handed Frank his beer. He pointed Jamia’s at her threateningly.

A small smile crossed his face as he said, “Badmouth me and my managing all you want, sweetheart. But you call me Bobby one more time, and I'm shoving one of these up your ass.”

Jamia tipped her head forward with laughter. “Somewhere, deep down in that cold heart of yours, you adore me.”

Frank snickered as he took a sip of his beer. Drinking was fun and she seemed like good company to do it with.

When she got him comfortable, she got him talking, he found.

“So the guy who’s picking you up, he's your boyfriend right?”

Frank felt his shoulders tense. “Not—exactly, no.”

“Aww but you like him though, don't you?” she smiled warmly. “Not that it's any of my business.”

“Yeah… he's really important to me. I don't think being in a relationship with him is a great idea though, you know?”

“I get that. Sucks though. I gave up on finding a boyfriend forever ago and got a dog instead.”

“Definitely the better choice,” Frank said, grinning.

“Yeah, it’s no fun when every guy you meet is only interested in getting in your pants. Thought that’d end with high school, but nope. I get no respect. I'm not about that.”

“Well, if you're half the woman you are a server, you're damn respectable.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, pretty boy. But I've got a feeling we’ll be friends.”

Friends. Frank found himself smiling at the notion. This girl was easy to talk to. He could use a friend; someone he didn't owe so much to. He'd love having more conversations like these.

His phone vibrated against the wood of the bar; Gerard texting him to say he was outside.

“My ride’s here. Thanks for the beer and everything,” he said to Jamia.

She smiled and said, “Thanks for the the good work and for drinking with me. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He wished her and Bob both a good night and stepped out the door.

~ ~ ~

The days to Thanksgiving passed almost painlessly. Frank worked and grew closer to Jamia, Bob, and even Gerard.

He’d gotten mostly used to the lack of wings; though he still took the occasionally three-foot swerve around corners. It earned him quizzical expressions from customers and co-workers. Jamia gleaned joy from teasing him about his “crazy legs”.

Thanksgiving morning painted him vomiting right after breakfast from anxiety. He still hadn't confessed to Gerard. The words wouldn't come, no matter how he tried. The anticipation of eating dinner with the Way family only made it worse. He'd let them down too. He could try his whole damn life and he still couldn't fix these mistakes.

He brushed his teeth and glared into his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. His skin crawled. Rocking back and forth on his heels, he calmed down an ounce at a time. Thanksgiving dinner gave Gerard horrible anxiety. He needed to rid himself of his own to help him stay steady.

He prayed Donna would believe Gerard’s insistences that no, Frank’s just a friend, I swear. Knowing Donna, she'd stick to cheerful teasing and fixate more on how thin Gerard seemed to be getting. No one would mention it, but this would be his first sober holiday season in a long time. Frank was proud of him. He'd given up on himself but he was making an effort again, even though he did seem to struggle most days. Often he saw him tracing his fingers over the scars and veins of his arms, staring at them with blank eyes.

Life had become routine, somehow. They took turns buying groceries and paying bills. Frank had taken up half of the chores. The two worked similar schedules, so Gerard dropped him off and picked him up. It was comfortable in its simplicity.

Against his better judgment he trekked to the kitchen and filled a mug to the brim. He knew putting black coffee on an empty stomach was unwise, but he could care less. It wasn't like he could technically die anytime soon so why go out of his way to care for his health? Worst case scenario; it made him sick, nervous, or hyper.

Gerard sat at the table staring into a cup of his own. His knee bounced with anxiety, but otherwise he appeared to be holding his composure.

“It's just dinner,” Frank said gently, sitting down. “One night to see way too many family members, and then it's over. Besides, the food’s good.”

“Yeah,” Gerard said, “Just makes me nervous.”

“Me too. But it's gonna be alright. Just stick to me and Mikey.”

“I'll be fine. Just… first year I'm gonna be ah… present for the whole thing.”

“I won't drink either, alright? Just relax.”

Gerard pressed his lips into a thin line. “Okay,” he said softly.

He debated with himself, and finally put his hand on top of Gerard's. Long fingers curled around his own and Frank felt his pulse flinch. Gerard sighed and squeezed his palm. A moment locked in time passed and he withdrew his hand. The guilt ate him alive but the newfound peace in the other man’s face eased it.

Gerard’s hands shook as he got in the car. They agreed that Frank ought to drive, considering he was the steadier one of the two at the moment.

They each took a deep breath as the car settled into the Way family driveway. Frank grasped the bottle of apple cider that he'd insisted on buying and stepped out of the vehicle. He always felt weird showing up to Thanksgiving dinner empty-handed, so he had to bring something.

Frank’s inclination was to ring the doorbell but Gerard simply grasped the handle and walked in.

“Mom never locks the damn door on the holidays,” he said, smiling a little.

Frank returned a grin and tried to push his nervousness deep inside of himself. He knew this family, he reasoned. They may not know him but he had always loved them.

The smell of spices and fresh bread filled his nose and took over his mind as he wiped his feet. Mikey was there with his girlfriend, Kristin. She sat curled against Mikey. The burnt orange of her socks stood out against the white tile floor. As the click of the closing door echoed through the house, she turned to smile at them from the living room. “Good to see you guys!” she called.

Donna appeared out of the kitchen with a bright, toothy smile. “Oh, glad you two came!”

Her eyes full of mirth, she laid her hands on Frank’s arms and said, “You must be Frank. It's so nice to meet you. I'm Donna.”

“It's nice to meet you too, ma’am.”

She tutted, wiping her hands on the autumn-themed apron around her waist. “Oh, none of that, honey. Are you taking good care of my boy?”

“Doing my best,” he chuckled shakily.

“Don't worry about it, I know he’s a handful,” she said.

“Yeah. I think he takes care of me more than the other way around, honestly.”

“He’s good at that. Takes care of everyone else better than he does himself,” said Donna.

“There's no lie there,” Frank said. “Anything I can do to help in the kitchen?”

Donna shook her head and smiled wider--miraculously.

She met Gerard’s eyes. “I like him. Keep him around.”

She flitted back into the kitchen. Gerard lead him into the living room, and they settled into the couch. Company thus far included Mikey and Kristin, Don, an aunt and uncle, as well as two cousins. They greeted the two of them, asked a handful of generic (and admittedly awkward) questions and set back to their stream of gossip and small talk.

Mikey and Kristin held hands unashamedly and managed to create comfortable conversation between the four of them. Frank felt the couch cushions shift slightly as Gerard let himself relax into it.

Don seemed somewhat suspicious of Frank and spoke flatly to him. It made Frank anxious, because that was how he behaved to nearly all of his past boyfriends. He silently thanked God that he didn't make any snarky remarks or ask too many questions.

His voice seemed to be trapped in the back of his throat, which made speaking rather difficult. His mind drifted to the diner; to Jamia and Bob. He wondered how those two friends were spending their holiday. He couldn't imagine Bob ever left the bar, let alone to celebrate a family dinner. He probably stayed there and listened to the lonely drunks ramble on about their sorrows, as he was so good at. He must have known a lot of interesting life stories, he pondered.

It was possible Jamia had taken a shift but it seemed more likely that she would laughing and eating with family members. She was such an endearing person; surely she wouldn't be eating dinner alone. She was better than that.

He was pulled back into the Way family living room by the soft contact of Gerard’s knee brushing against his. Soon, an hour passed. It was more than enough time for him to find a fondness for Kristin. Her voice was cheerful, soft, and sweet. She didn't pry or drone about petty subjects, but kept a cozy interaction alive.

Ray crossed his mind. He smiled to himself, knowing he must have chosen this girl for Mikey. Frank had always admired his matchmaking abilities.

Donna called from the kitchen that dinner was ready. It resulted into an immediate exodus from their seats to the dining room. The table was laden with an aesthetically appealing display of food, which Donna gestured to proudly. Thanksgiving always had been her favorite holiday. She swore she loved the chance to show gratitude for family but everyone knew it was really because she loved to show off her hosting skills.

“It's beautiful, honey,” Don said, kissing her cheek.

“As always.” Mikey smiled.

“You've outdone yourself, mom,” Gerard said.

“Well, the opportunity to enjoy Thanksgiving with two new people is wonderful.”

All eyes darted between Frank and Kristin and back to Frank again. He managed to stifle the small flush of embarrassment that rippled through him.

“Who would like to say grace?” Donna asked.

“Been a couple years since Gerard said it,” Don said pointedly.

Frank watched him shift his weight uncomfortably before saying, “Actually… I think Frank might like to.”

He felt himself smile as Donna offered him the opportunity. He thanked them, met Gerard’s eyes, and bowed his head. He prayed in a traditional tone, wary that he wouldn't raise questions.

Gerard slipped his hand inside his own as he prayed, steadying him.

“Lord, we thank you that we've been able to come together today. To enjoy warm hospitality and enjoy each other’s company. You give us many blessings and this is a nice opportunity to reflect on them. We thank you for the protection you've given us, the food we’ll enjoy, and the chance to get to know each other. Most of all, we thank you for the people we love and pray you help us to always be grateful for them. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”

Gerard dropped his hand before anyone could notice. A soft chorus of “Amen,” resonated through the room.

“That was beautiful, Frank,” said Kristin. “I don't think I've ever heard a better Thanksgiving grace.”

Gerard grinned at him knowingly.

He sat at the table between him and Mikey, which brought him a sense of security. These two knew him, at least… mostly. Significantly more than anyone else here.

Dishes of food were passed around the table; fresh rolls, macaroni and cheese, sweet potato casserole, green beans, cranberry sauce, turkey, and stuffing. It all looked and smelled fantastic.

Nobody asked questions when Frank took a double helping of vegetables and stuffing in place of turkey, which he chalked up to Gerard likely having explained him beforehand.

Dinner conversation was light and pleasant. He recalled Thanksgivings with his own family. Inevitably, someone would start an argument, and it would grow to massive proportions before someone else would shut it down with “For God’s sake, it's Thanksgiving.”

He'd loved his own family and the holidays they celebrated but this still felt much more peaceful. Fight-free holidays were a blessing in his book.

Following family tradition, Donna suggested at dessert that everyone take a turn to say what they were most thankful for.

At the end of the table, Don started. “I'm thankful for my wife’s wonderful cooking and that my two boys grew into good men.”

Donna said, “I’m thankful for my family. Especially my sons and the people they love. Mostly, I'm thankful that we’ve made it through the hardships we've faced and seen the other side.”

“I'm thankful for love,” Kristin gushed. “Mikey is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Mikey kissed her temple, and took his turn. “I’m thankful for my girlfriend and my brother. These two keep me grounded.”

Frank swallowed hard as his turn came.

“I’m thankful for Gerard,” he said, letting go of his fear. “For taking me in when I didn't have anything left. And for bringing me here to have such a great night with his family.”

Gerard smiled, and said his piece. “I'm thankful… for everyone that has shown me love and forgiveness. For sticking by my side through my worst times. And for Frank for helping me feel less alone in the world.”

A warmth rose in Frank’s chest and for a moment he felt like crying. Gerard was so kind to him. More than he'd ever deserve.

The rest of the family took their turns but Frank remained lost in his head through their words.

When everyone had eaten their fill, Frank insisted that Donna let him help clean up.

“Oh, fine,” she huffed. “You're a good boy, you know that?”

“I just like to do my part,” he said.

“Can I help too?” Kristin chirped.

“I guess,” Donna sighed. “I don't know what I'll do with the two of you, honestly.”

As the night passed on, dishes were done, food was stuffed into containers for leftovers, and he got to know Kristin rather well. Her infectious kindness and loyalty stood out most. Ray had definitely chosen her. He had a feeling she and Mikey would be together for a long time.

Donna hummed, and placed a container full of food in Frank’s hands. It was still warm.

“Make sure Gerard eats plenty. I'm worried if he gets too much thinner he'll vanish altogether.”

Frank laughed. “I’ll do my best. Thank you.”

Once they had finally managed to pry himself free of the family’s grasp, they headed out the door.

“Well, we survived,” Gerard grinned, eyes lit by distant moonlight.

“Hell yeah,” Frank said. “I love your family.”

“I love ‘em,” said Gerard. He leaned back against the hood of the car and retrieved two cigarettes from his coat pocket.

They filled their lungs with smoke and stared toward the night sky.

“I think that was the best damn Thanksgiving I've had in a long time.”

“Me too,” Frank breathed, a cloud of smoke seeping through his lips.

~ ~ ~

Leftovers lasted entirely too long. The massive container Donna had shoved into Frank’s hands was packed tightly with turkey, casseroles, cranberry sauce, and two slices of pumpkin pie. Gerard ended up eating turkey-and-cranberry sandwiches for breakfast for at least a week, while Frank discovered that yes, it is actually possible to get tired of sweet potato casserole.

“Thank God that's done,” Gerard said as he emptied the last bit of turkey from the container. Disdainfully, he dropped the container in the sink. “Mom cooks great but it gets old pretty damn fast.”

Frank readily agreed, sighing into his third cup of coffee. He felt the caffeine beginning to flow through his veins, making him feel both excited and peaceful.

The growing pile of laundry in the corner by the washer troubled him. Neither of them had found the simultaneous time and motivation to wash it; so it was starting to feel pretty sad. Especially troublesome was the smell that came when you went too close. It'd been two days since a drunk girl had thrown up on one of his work shirts. He'd taken it off and cleaned it in the bathroom sink but that only went so far. He decided that at this point it was probably a wise choice to just throw the damn shirt away. This had to end; he'd do the laundry today after work.

The rest of the morning played on in typical fashion; the initial easy pace followed by a mad dash to get out the door on time.

Gerard had made a habit of leaning over the car’s center console to hug him before work, which Frank didn't mind in the slightest. In spite of himself and how much he hated everything he'd failed to do, Gerard made him feel safe. Secure.

Since Gerard had to drop him off roughly 10 minutes early every morning, he often found himself leaning on the bar chatting with Jamia before he clocked in. He’d come to love these mornings.

“Morning, pretty boy,” Jamia chuckled as he walked in.

“Fuck you very much, fine lady,” he replied.

She laughed and propped her hand on her hip.

The first half of the day went like any other. He served coffee and breakfast to multiple tables at time, smiling and taking orders. Most of them tipped him fairly but he grumbled under his breath at the people who only left two or three dollars. Come on, people. He had bills to pay too.

The approaching end of Frank and Jamia’s shift was marked by the arrival of the nightly drinking crowd. They spent the last portion of their time leaning against a wall near the bar, watching Bob serve liquor.

As a text came from Gerard, trouble began. Frank glanced down to his phone, and that was when he heard it.

“You son of a bitch!” a man roared.

Frank jerked his head up just in time to see a burly bald man grab a lanky bearded guy by the shoulders. The man yanked him from his barstool and took a punch square in the face. Chaos took over as Bob shouted for the two to knock it off and Jamia rushed forward to intervene.

Fists flew and glasses were broken. At some point a table was knocked over and the brawl only seemed to be growing more heated.

He saw it coming before it happened. Boldly, Jamia wedged her body in between the two men and shoved them away from each other. And then the burly guy hit her. She let out an awful whimper as his fist met her face. She fell to the floor and Frank felt something inside of himself snap. The lanky man froze in shock but the burly one still didn't ease off. Instead, he started to reach toward the floor, hovering menacingly over Jamia.

Frank didn't think; he just reacted. He didn't know how many times he hit the guy. He just kept wheeling back to throw another punch, out of control. It was bad enough the guy had started a fight and made such a mess but he couldn't let him think for a second he could hit Jamia without serious consequences.

His fist began to throb and the next thing he knew, he heard the impact. Once, twice, three times. His vision went blurry with pain. He felt his legs go weak.

Time froze as Bob’s voice rang through the air.

“You stop right this motherfucking second!” he screamed.

The blows stopped and Frank’s vision cleared. He saw the man’s face; red, puffy and bloodied. Metallic and bitter in his mouth was the taste of his own blood.

“One more kick, punch, or anything and I swear to God, you spend the night in jail.”

The man looked like a deer caught in the headlights; seemingly shocked at what he’d done.

Bob picked the phone up. “Now I'm calling you a cab, you're gonna go home, and I'm not gonna ever see your face in here again. You understand me?”

The man nodded stiffly and wiped his nose. He winced as he touched his face. The lanky man had taken a seat and Frank stumbled to help Jamia to her feet.

“Fuck,” she murmured. He wiped his face on his sleeve, and saw the white fabric stained crimson. Great, he thought. With his luck, his nose was probably broken.

He felt angrier still as he took in the sight of Jamia, her right eye bruised. Blood seeped from a cut at her eyebrow.

He stammered, turning to Bob. “I should uh… help you clean up this mess.”

“Go home, Frank. You didn't do anything wrong. You weren't even on the clock anymore, and he hit a girl. Asshole got what was coming to him.”

“I should go too,” Jamia said dejectedly. “Thanks for sticking up for me, Frank.”

“Yeah, uh… You shouldn't have to go home by yourself after getting punched in the face like that. Why don't you come over to me and Gerard’s place for a bit? We can fix your eye up and everything.”

She chewed on the notion for a moment and shrugged. “It couldn't hurt. I can't quite see straight anyway.”

“Okay,” he said. “Gerard’s already outside. Let’s get outta here.”

She followed him out the door. Sorrowfully, he glanced over his shoulder to see Bob sweeping up broken glass.

“Holy shit,” Gerard said anxiously as Frank opened the car door. “What the hell happened?”

“Bar fight,” he said. “Can Jamia come home with us for a bit?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. You look like you just got the beating of your life, Frankie.”

“Yeah, the bastard hit her and I just kind of… lost it.”

“Jesus,” Gerard whispered.

Jamia slid into the backseat. “So you're Gerard,” she said. “Nice to meet you. Please excuse the eye.”

“It's fine,” he said. “Looks pretty painful. We’ll take care of you though. Jamia, right?”

“That’s me. Gotta say, Frank can throw a goddamn punch,” she laughed. “Didn't think such a little guy would have so much nerve.”

Frank snickered, and buckled his seatbelt. His face hurt, and fuck did his hand ever ache.

“Nice place,” Jamia said as they went into the apartment. “It’s cozy.”

“Thanks,” Gerard said. Frank twitched as Gerard touched his cheek, just gently. “Fuck, Frankie. You’re a mess.”

“I’ll be okay,” he said. He touched Gerard’s hand, just a moment, and fished an ice pack out of the freezer. He sat Jamia at the table. She leaned forward as he motioned toward her eye. She let out a soft gasp of pain as the cold met the bruised flesh.

“It's not too bad, I don't think.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Not the first time I've gotten a shiner.”

“Really?” he chuckled softly.

“Yeah, I got into a lot of fights in high school,” she said proudly. “Never with guys, though.”

“Nice,” said Frank.

She took the ice pack from him, keeping it pressed to her eye. He started to look for a washcloth to clean some of the blood off, but Gerard beat him to it.

“Frank, just sit down,” he fretted.

Nodding, Frank sat in the chair next to Jamia’s and watched Gerard wet a washcloth in the sink and wring it out. Gingerly, he pressed the cool cloth against his mouth and began to wipe the blood away. Frank hadn't seen his face, but he imagined it had to be bruised--maybe even swollen in some places. He took note of every spot that the contact of the water stung on split skin.

As Gerard made an effort to clean his face and hand up, Jamia enthusiastically described every detail of the bar brawl. He found himself laughing at the way she exaggerated his supposed heroism. In all honesty, the untainted rage he’d felt in the scene scared him. Still, he imagined Jamia being hit again, maybe even kicked while she was down and felt the guilt ease off. Hitting a woman wasn't an okay thing to do, no matter how drunk you got.

Gerard showed him the rag; stained with blood.

“Damn,” Frank hummed.

His lip must have split at the corner, because it stung as he formed his words.

“You did the right thing but Jesus Christ,” said Gerard. “Next time, guard your face.”

“Yeah,” Jamia chimed in with a smirk. “Your face is far too pretty to fuck it up like that.”

Gerard laughed a little, pressing an ice pack to Frank’s bruised knuckles. He let out a soft “ah,” of pain at the cold pressure of it.

“Bar fights happen now and then,” Jamia said. “Bob will give us the next couple days off, since we got hurt.”

After discarding the bloodied washcloth, Gerard touched a second ice pack to Frank’s cheek, and told him to keep it there.

“I think that's about all I can do for you right now, but it'll heal.”

“Thanks, Gee.”

Gerard nodded, turning to Jamia as she thanked him for letting her come home with them.

“It's no problem,” he said. “I'm gonna order a pizza…”

“Sounds perfect,” Jamia said.

They spent the rest of the evening chatting, eating pizza, and watching Star Wars. It was peaceful; sitting in the living room with two of the people he loved most.

The night dragged on a while before Frank offered to drive Jamia home.

“Yeah, I should get some rest,” she said. “And you should too. You took the real beating today.”

“Ah, I’ve had worse.” He shrugged.

Gerard put the car keys in his hand, and told him to drive safe.

“Be right back,” he said, smiling.

No sooner than the apartment door was locked behind them, a stiff breeze blew, reminding them that winter was biting at their heels.

“I had a really nice time with you guys tonight,” said Jamia.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, taking the passenger seat. “You're gonna hate me for saying this…”

“Oh fuck, spit it out,” he teased.

“Gerard likes you.”

He stiffened. “Well… of course. We’re roommates.”

“You know what I mean,” she sighed. “I know it's not any of my business, but… You guys really obviously care about each other.”

“I just… I dunno,” he stammered, putting the car in gear. “I’ll never be good enough for him. I've… I've let him down before.”

“Okay,” she said. “But hey… he seems like a pretty forgiving guy. Just, think about it.”

“I have,” he said. “I just can't. I really don't deserve him.”

“You know,” she said sweetly. “For someone who jumped on a guy and took a hell of a beating in defense of a friend, you're pretty hard on yourself.”

“I guess,” he said, falling quiet.

A moment of loaded silence passed, before Jamia grinned; her white teeth prominent in the dim light.

“Do you wanna come meet my dog before you go home?” she asked as he halted the car outside her apartment complex. 

He smiled. “I’d love that,” he said, following her to the door. 

Upon entry to the dimly lit room he was greeted by an unstoppable force of a dog; a blue eyed husky squirming and slobbering with excitement. It jumped up to lick his face, paws braced strong against his chest. He pressed his lips tight to protect them from the smily drool of the gleeful dog. Condentedly, he ran his hands over its soft ears. 

“Wow, he _really_ likes you,” Jamia giggled. “I mean, he likes everybody but I’ve never seen him act this way.”

”Hmm, guess he knows I love him,” Frank chuckled as the dog’s tongue lapped at his cheek. 

“He’s a good judge of character,” she said. “I got him at a shelter. He wasn’t really underweight and he has a lot of health problems. We take care of each other.” 

“That’s amazing,” Frank said as the dog finally sat down. 

He leaned his head gleefully into Frank’s palm as he stroked his head. 

“Thanks for letting me come see him.” 

“Well, thanks for getting pounded in the face on my behalf,” said Jamia, bumping his shoulder playfully. 

He went home covered in white fur and dried canine saliva. Gerard sat at the table, his legs crossed, sketching messily with a charcoal pencil.

Two shirts went in the trash; one covered in blood and the other, vomit from the previous week. Who knew working at a diner with a bar was so hard on clothes?

As he finished loading the massive pile of laundry into the washer, he turned around to find Gerard standing behind him. It startled him at first, because Jesus he was quiet.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Gerard murmured.

He didn't give Frank the chance to ask what was bothering him. He wrapped his arms around his chest and pulled him close. Frank rested his face against his shoulder, feeling safe and warm all of a sudden.

“Please be careful, Frankie,” he whispered into his hair. “I need you in my life.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” he hummed against Gerard’s skin. “I promise you.”

~ ~ ~

The days grew colder as winter came, bringing biting temperatures and graceful snow. The soothing contrast between the chilling atmosphere and the heat of the coffee mug in his hands made Gerard feel secure. During the winter he often found himself sitting by the window instead of at the table; curled against the wall, staring toward the sky as flakes of snow fell. On weekends he passed most of his time sitting there with his knees against his chest.

Frank was slightly less happy about the cold but he didn't complain. He’d taken to layering his clothes rather impressively. The average layer count was three, but his record thus far was six.

“Ah, fuck you and your good circulation,” Frank said with a laugh when he’d pointed it out.  
  
His breath clouded the glass as he gazed through the window to the flurry outside. Snow had always meant something to him and in New Jersey he'd never seen a Christmas without it.

Oh shit, he thought. Christmas. It was only two weeks away and he hadn't done anything to prepare for it. His favorite holiday, and he hadn't even thought of getting a tree yet.

“Christmas is soon,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Frank smiled. He walked over and leaned against the counter across from Gerard. “Are we gonna go see your parents again?”

Gerard pursed his lips. “Actually, I was thinking we could have a party here.”

“You want to?” Frank asked. “You've never hosted one before.”

“That's true,” he sighed. “But it's good to try new things. I think it'd be nice to have a few people come over. Mikey and Kristin… Jamia and Bob could come too. Just keep it light and casual.”

“It sounds like fun.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” said Frank, smiling. “We should probably head off to get a tree and presents next week though.”

“I’d like that.”

Frank hummed low and soft around his cigarette. Trails of smoke wafted around his face. The intricate tattoos on his hands held Gerard’s interest a moment, as he memorized the patterns and letters on his skin. His hair was getting long enough that it covered his ears and fell into his face. Like framework on art, he mused.

Christmas presents were always a challenge. He wanted to get things that would actually mean something. He had a rough idea of what to get Mikey, Kristin, and his parents, but no clue what to give Frank. He could think of little things, like nice gloves, since he noticed his hands got cold a lot. But he wanted to give him something meaningful for Christmas. He'd have something by next week for sure.

“I'll text Jamia and Bob. I doubt she has plans. It'll be a hell of a time convincing Bob to leave work, but I'll get him here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gerard said.

It wasn't until Christmas Eve that they actually bought a tree, shamefully enough. Gerard had opted for artificial, but Frank insisted on paying more than half his share in favor of a Douglas Fir.

“Christmas is your favorite holiday. You're planning on going all out for me on Halloween. Come on, Gee,” his argument rang.

“Fine,” he'd conceded.

That night saw them laughing as a holiday mixtape Gerard made in high school was played. “It's Going To Be A Punk Rock Christmas” resounded through the apartment as they decorated the tree.

The stack of wrapped presents under the tree ate away at him with anticipation. A medium sized, flat box with “Gee” scratched on the label piqued his interest most. The glittery green wrapping paper told him it was from Frank--he'd seen him buy it. Some presents had come in the mail from his mom and dad and still others would be brought to the Christmas party.

He eyed the two small boxes he'd wrapped for Frank. They didn't look like much at first, but he hoped both would mean more than met the eye.

He just hoped Frank didn't spend too much on a present for him. That wasn't unlike him; relentlessly self-sacrificing as he was.

“So you're still not telling me what you got?” Frank pleaded.

“Nope,” Gerard smirked as he placed a candy cane on a frond of green.

“You're so smug, you bastard,” he chuckled.

“Fuck you too, Frankie,” he said sweetly. “I can promise you my mom sent you an awful sweater though.”

“I'd expect nothing less of her.” He grinned. “I’d bet my ass it has a reindeer on it.”

“One of us gets one, every damn year.”

“I could be so lucky,” Frank deadpanned. “Alright, here's the finishing touch. and I'll light her up, yeah?” He waved the yellow star around excitedly.

“Absolutely.” Gerard smiled.

To Gerard’s amusement, Frank had to lean up on his toes to place the ornament at the top of the tree. He sighed blissfully as he stepped back and flicked the switch to turn the lights around the tree on. It glowed merrily with blue, gold, green, and pink.

“It is beautiful,” he said.

“Yeah,” Frank said. Pink light reflected in his eyes.

He found himself reaching for his hand. He had seized it before he could reason his way out of the gesture. Frank stiffened but surely enough intertwined his fingers with his own. Laced together, so little contact but still so tight, Gerard marveled at how they fit together.

“Merry Christmas, Gee.”

“Merry Christmas,” he sighed.

He felt two things: awe and pain. Awe that Frank was here with him and that he could have ever loved anyone else. And pain that he couldn't tell Frank how he felt. That it wouldn't work anyway. They just weren't equal.

Frank was pure. Fallen from heaven or not, he was an angel. He'd seen the face of God, known right and wrong… There was a holiness in him that he dared not trespass upon.

~ ~ ~

Christmas morning he woke at dawn. The alarm didn't have to ring; excitement shook him awake. It was finally Christmas. He felt eight years old.

“Chestnut coffee!” Frank shrieked gleefully as he stepped into the kitchen. He lifted his cup toward the heavens, as though giving praise.

“Oh damn,” Gerard said. “I've been looking forward to this stuff all year.”

“Merry Christmas,” Frank said.

“Merry Christmas,” said Gerard.

“Now will you tell me what you got me?” he bargained.

“No,” Gerard said with a mock stern tone. “Wait till the party.”

Frank tipped his head back and groaned. “But that's not until seven!”

Gerard giggled. “Lord, be patient. What are you, six?”

“On Christmas? Hell yeah I am.”

“Fair enough.”

To pass the time until their friends came, they finished decorating the apartment, sang Christmas carols, and watched movies.

“It's a very Star Wars Christmas,” Frank said.

“Every Christmas is a Star Wars Christmas.”

“Amen.”

Seven PM felt days away but the time did pass reliably. Frank sprang to his feet the moment the doorbell rang.

“Merry Christmas, guys!” Jamia cried as he opened the door.

Frank returned the greeting and let her in. She made her way to the kitchen to empty her full arms.

“You're gonna love me,” she teased.

“And I don't already?” Frank asked.

“Not as much as you will.” She pulled a cardboard carton out of a plastic bag. “Cuz I got you vegan eggnog.”

“You're fucking kidding!”

“Nope,” she said as she placed two pristinely wrapped presents beneath the glimmering tree.

“Damn, that's great. You're the best, James.”

“You know it, pretty boy. Bob’s bringing dark rum too,” she said.

“Oh, we don't--”

Gerard interrupted, leaning over the table. “I don't drink. Frank does.”

Frank looked at him quizzically.

“Come on,” he argued. “Just because I'm not hitting the stuff doesn't mean you can't. It's Christmas. Drink your head off with friends. Have a good time.”

He had better self control now. He knew he'd be okay, and he was curious what a drunk Frank looked like. Entertaining as all hell, he imagined. He had so much energy already… What happened when alcohol was poured on top of it?

“You're sure?” Frank said skeptically.

“100%,” Gerard said.

“Okay,” Frank said quietly. “I trust you.”

The words drifted through Gerard’s head. They bounced from end to end of his skull.

Bob arrived next, bearing high end liquor as promised, as well as a Christmas card. No less, he was dressed in full as Santa Claus.

“One word and I fire you,” he said as Frank opened his mouth. “I just got off work. This shit’s good for business. Besides, the beard is warm. I'm freezing my ass off.”

Mikey and Kristin came last, but not far behind schedule.

“Sorry we’re late!” Kristin said. “But I brought cookies!”

“Damn things don't bake fast enough and she wanted them to be fresh,” Mikey chuckled.

“Oh hush,” she giggled.

Jesus, she’s too fucking precious, Gerard thought. Not his type of girl personally, but Mikey had really scored.

They placed their presents under the tree as well, and Kristin presented them with a vast array of sugar cookies perfectly decorated shaped like Santa, reindeer, trees, and snowflakes.

“You made these?” Gerard asked.

“Yeah! My mom loves Christmas. She taught me when I was nine.”

“They’re fantastic,” he said, biting into one.

Eggnog followed. The warmth of sugary holiday bliss filled his mouth and eased away what remaining anxiety he had.

As everyone eased in and hummed along with “Deck The Halls”, Frank downed his second glass of eggnog.

“Vegan eggnog.” Gerard shook his head. “What is the world coming to?”

“Hey, this shit’s delicious!” Frank argued. His inhibitions seemed to be coming down the more he drank.

“We should probably open presents before Frank and Jamia drink too much to know what they were,” he said.

“Fair enough,” said Jamia. “Open mine first, Frank!”

“Listen,” he kidded, “I love you, but I've been wondering what Gerard got since like, forever.”

“Oh, alright. But I'm next!”

Gingerly, Frank ripped the wrapping paper and opened the first box. He let out a breath of excitement and cradled the pair of fingerless gloves in his hands. They'd jumped out at Gerard in this store, and seemed to suit his personality exceptionally well. He smiled as Frank slipped them on, running his fingers over the skeleton design.

“Damn,” he said. “These are perfect.”

“They glow in the dark too,” Gerard said.

“I love them,” purred Frank.

“Come on, get the next one,” he nudged.

The smaller box was the important one. The most thought and effort had gone into it. Frank’s eyes shined the moment he saw the concert tickets and he radiated happiness as he read them.

“Rancid?” he said disbelievingly. “Gerard--I… I don't know what to say. I just… Floor tickets. How much did these cost?”

“Don't worry about it. We both love them, and they'll be in the area soon. I had to.”

Frank threw both arms around him and hugged him tight. “Thank you,” he breathed in his ear. He opened the rest of his presents with untempered joy. Jamia had given him a high end pair of combat boots--genuine leather. Mikey and Kristin had pitched in together to get him a vintage Ramones shirt. Folded inside Bob’s card, was a wad of cash with a note saying “Your Christmas bonus. Thanks for helping.”

Gerard buzzed with curiosity as he opened the box from Frank. Folded neatly inside was a black leather jacket--nicer than Gerard would ever buy himself. He pulled it out, and found it fit almost perfectly. The inside was lined with soft material.

“Holy shit, Frank,” he said.

“It's vintage. I got it online. It's really high quality so it'll hold up. You gave me your old one, and I figured you deserved something really nice for taking me in like you have.”

“You're amazing,” Gerard said.

As the rest of the presents were opened, Frank and Jamia took turns bringing each other drinks from the kitchen. Both of them giggled like children, and made incoherent jokes only the two of them seemed to understand. The drunker Frank got, the higher the pitch in his laugh went.

Heading toward midnight, the party began to die down. Cabs were called, and Gerard walked everyone out to make sure they got home safely.

By 12:30, Gerard was left in a messy, festively decorated apartment with an incredibly inebriated Frank. Shreds of bright wrapping paper were littered across the floor and couches.

Giggling, Frank stumbled toward the kitchen in search of more rum.

“No, you've had enough,” Gerard laughed.

He stuck his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

“Okay…,” he slurred.

Fuck, he was adorable when he was drunk. All of his inhibitions seemed to have melted into fun and joy. It was good to see him so happy, even if it was only temporary.

“We made a mess,” he snickered, kicking around the carpet to fluff up the shredded paper. He laughed harder, high in his throat when it fluttered around his feet like confetti.

“It's like butterfly wings…” he said distantly.

He managed to land on the couch face first when he tripped over his own feet. When he'd righted himself to a sitting position, he patted the cushion next to him.

“Sit with me,” he slurred.

Reluctantly, Gerard sat down. Frank met his eyes and grinned impossibly wide.

“You're pretty,” he drawled.

Gerard felt his face flush. Shit, this wasn't going well.

Frank’s voice cleared a little. “I never say anything cuz I'm all fucked up. And I hate myself a lot, cuz I'm no good for you.”

“Don't say that,” Gerard said.

“It's true.” He hiccuped, humorously enough, and kept talking. “I'm not. But I love you. Always have.”

“Frank…”

Before he could open his mouth, Gerard felt the surprisingly gentle press of Frank’s lips against his own. And he couldn't breathe, or think, or do anything but close his eyes, and lean into him. Instinct took over. His pulse rushed and his face burned. His better judgement crawled all over his skin but he still couldn't find the resolve to push him away. He was all too eager to part his lips for Frank; to melt into the way his fingers worked through his hair.

For a moment, there was only the taste of cinnamon, alcohol, and warmth on Frank’s tongue.

Frank pulled back and kissed his cheek softly as well.

He stopped him as he leaned back toward him.

“Frankie,” he warned. “You're drunk. You're not thinking.”

“Doesn't mean it's not true.”

“Yeah, but… you might regret this when you're sober.”

Frank sniffed. “Probably. But I'll never get over… stuff, any other time.”

“Yeah,” Gerard sighed. “But isn't it supposed to be like… a sin or something? Doesn't the Bible say shit about that?”

The high, soft laugh came again and Frank said, “That’s stupid. Some… some asshole made that j-junk up and a buncha other assholes said ‘eh, makes sense’. Being bisexual didn't keep me outta heaven.” He laughed again.

“Seriously?” Gerard said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah. Nobody gives two fucks. God only cares when you hurt people, really.”

“Huh,” Gerard hummed, chewing on the thought.

His breath was soft and warm against his skin. Frank pressed his forehead to his own but didn't kiss him again. He wanted him to, but not drunk. He wanted to be loved sober.

“You should sleep,” Gerard said.

“You should too.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “Goodnight, Frank.”

“Merry Christmas, Gee,” he said groggily.

“Merry Christmas, Frankie.”

 _I love you too_ , he thought. He didn't know why he didn't just say it back. Maybe he’d luck out and Frank wouldn't remember any of it in the morning.

~ ~ ~

When Frank woke up he could feel his heartbeat in his skull. The hangover pounded behind his eyes and his stomach cursed him bitterly. He stumbled to the bathroom and bent down to free his insides of the foul taste deep in his throat.

“Fuck,” he spat.

Every single time he got drunk he spent the next day wondering what the hell he was thinking.

He let his head roll back to rear against the counter. Memories of the night washed back through his mind; blurred but still unfractured. The most thoughtful presents he'd cherish, laughing himself breathless with Jamia, kicking up shredded wrapping paper, and… Oh no. No, no, no.

His heart had betrayed him; spilling out of his mouth with reckless abandon. He recalled the taste of Gerard's skin and the heat of his breath. His mind and heart waged war with one another. He was torn between wanting to relive it and wishing it had never happened.

He held his face in his hands and pleaded with God to forgive him this selfishness. Panic made his head throb worse yet as he fished through the cabinet for aspirin. Adrenaline rushed his veins.

There would be no running from this. No denying it. The truth of it burned through his core; that Gerard had kissed him back, hard. Frightened, unsteady, and yet fervent. He'd leaned into him, met his eyes, and didn't turn him away.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't take Gerard’s love--not as the monster he was. His jaw tightened and his body shook. He rocked himself back and forth, sitting for hours on the bathroom floor. Guilt corroded his heart like a cancer. He couldn't imagine returning to heaven from this. He didn't think he deserved it before and he damn well didn't now. He imagined himself as the devil’s plaything and vomited again.

It would have been so much easier to have Gerard reject him. That was fair. He wished he would have just pushed him away, told him he didn't feel the same. After all, weren’t they just friends? Instead, he'd said you’re drunk. That wasn't a rejection.

He'd have to face him eventually, and he had zero clue how to handle the situation. The halcyon days of the normal they’d created was over.

 _Shoulda stayed sober_ , he thought.

Hours passed and the pulsing headache finally subsided.

Gerard was in the kitchen, chewing on the end of a pencil. He stared at his blank page. It was his habit when his thoughts were gnawing away at him.

Every bit of the mess he was in right now was his own creation. Frank had to face it. He cleared his throat in the hallway so he wouldn't sneak up on Gerard; easily startled as he was.

His eyes stayed fixated on the paper beneath his fingers. He didn't meet Frank’s eyes, not even with a glance.

“Feeling better?” he asked softly.

“Mostly,” Frank replied, his throat tight.

“That’s good.” Gerard's voice was distant. “How much of last night do you remember?”

“All of it,” he answered guiltily. “Gee, I--”

Gerard sighed and put his pencil down. “Don't, Frank.”

“Don't what?”

“Don't start apologizing. Don't try to talk your way out of it.”

“I am sorry,” he said, staring at his hands.

“Bullshit,” Gerard hissed, unexpectedly cold. “You told me you loved me. You kissed me. Why the hell are you sorry?”

“I was drunk.”

“Don't you dare,” said Gerard. Full of pain, his hazel eyes were like ice. “I’ve been drunk more than you have, I promise you. It doesn't mean those feelings aren't real. Just means your walls start coming down.”

Frank clenched his teeth. “You're right,” he sniffed. “I meant what I said.”

“So what’s holding you back, huh? Why can't you talk to me sober?”

“Gerard… I can't--”

“I have a right to know!” Gerard said. He pressed his lips together and put a hand over his mouth.

“I didn't mean to yell,” he said as Frank stared at him. “But you keep secrets, Frank. You’re hurting, all the time. I can see it. You fucking apologize for everything, and it’s killing me. You need to talk to me.”

“I can't,” Frank said flatly. He felt the heat of a tear falling from his cheek and onto his hand.

“Then this doesn't mean anything to you.”

“No. No, don't say that.”

“Stop!” Gerard growled, rising from his chair. “You’re not the only one who can't stand his own face in the mirror. Do you know where I've been this year? I’ve done awful things. To myself and to my family.”

“I know,” Frank whispered. “I know what happened.”

He watched the color drain from the man’s face. “See, that. That’s the problem. You seem to know me so well, but you won't let me know you.”

“You wouldn't like it if you knew,” said Frank.

“You need to stop!” Gerard shouted. “What did you do that was so horrible? Why the hell are you here?”

Frank heard his voice rise before he thought twice. The chair he sat in fell back and hit the tile floor loudly as he stood up.

“ _Because it’s all my fault_!” he screamed. Tears seared his face now. He waited for his ringing ears to quiet down before he spoke again, in a hushed tone now. “All of it.”

Gerard stared at him with wide eyes as the truth spilled from inside him faster than he could contain it.

“You were a gift, Gerard. I was chosen to protect you; entrusted with that. I’ve seen your life. I've saved you from a hundred things. But I failed. I didn't protect you enough and you swallowed a bottle of pills because it was too much.” He cleared his throat. “It was my responsibility to make damn sure nothing that bad happened to you. So it's on me.”

Breathlessly, Gerard shook his head. Frank stared toward the floor. He couldn't look at him, speechless. The hatred he must have felt now… it was suffocating.

“I’ve poisoned almost everything I've ever touched,” Frank said darkly. “And I'll never forgive myself for letting you down. So that's why I didn't want you to know me. I'm a goddamn monster, Gerard. I told you. I fucking told you.”

He closed his burning eyes and let himself slip down farther into the abyss. The loathing inside was worse than anything he'd ever known.

In that moment, he realized just what a gentle soul Gerard really was. He didn't scream or turn on him. He didn't hit him or leave. He just sighed and wrapped his arms around him. Frank leaned into his warmth; drowned himself in it.

“I think you should go spend some time at Jamia’s place,” he whispered. “I need time to process. And she'll be there for you.”

“Okay,” Frank whimpered.

“I don't hate you for this, Frank.” Gerard pressed his lips to his forehead, and then his cheek. “I don't know how to feel about it. But you need to find a way to let it go.”

“I don't know if I can.”

“I know. I haven't let go of what I've done either. But I need some time. Okay?”

“Okay,”

“I love you, Frank.”

The words sank through his body and made him shiver. Sometimes he didn't understand Gerard’s capacity to be kind.

“I love you too.”

The rise and fall of Gerard’s chest against his own calmed him.

“Where do we go from here?” Frank asked.

“I wish I knew, Frankie.”

~ ~ ~

“You look like death warmed over,” Jamia groaned as she opened the door.

“I feel like it too,” said Frank. He shifted his weight as his backpack rested uncomfortably on one shoulder. “Can I stay here for a few days?”

Jamia looked puzzled. “Uh… Always. My brother’s here today but he's pretty chill. You’ll like him. What’s wrong, babe?”

She stepped to the side to let him in. He slung the bag off his shoulder and onto the couch. A scruffy looking guy with brown hair came from the kitchen and sat next to him. He extended a hand wordlessly and Frank shook it.

“I'm Evan,” he said. “Jamia’s brother.”

“Awesome. I'm Frank; friend of hers.”

Stiffly, Frank made light conversation with him. He made more of an effort to draw him out and listen than talk. He wasn't feeling keen to share. He learned as much as he could about the guy; searching his brown eyes for clues of his character. He wondered if he was the older or younger sibling but didn't bother asking. It didn't really matter.

Evan was rather different from Jamia. He was naturally reserved but warm and personable. He played guitar, owned an Indian motorcycle, and had a dog even scruffier-looking than he was. Frank decided pretty quickly he liked him.

After her brother left, Jamia’s husky came rushing toward him from the hallway and jumped into Frank’s lap. He sighed as the blue eyed creature licked the last salty remains of earlier tears from his face.

In his reluctance to speak he listened to the chatter of a hushed commercial on TV. He gazed toward the ceiling and watched a dusty fan blade spinning. Jamia didn't like the quiet too much so the fan and TV were on to create white noise. It eased his mind.

“Me and Gerard are fighting,” he muttered.

“Oh shit,” Jamia said. “That’s… fuck. I don't know what to say. What happened?”

“Well, I was bitch-ass drunk last night.”

“This I knew.” She smiled softly. “We had the world’s best time though. You're pretty fucking cute when you're drunk though.”

“Yeah. Well… I kissed him.”

Her eyes went wide. “Whoa. Was it bad or something?”

He shook his head. “He kissed me back. Hard.”

“Like… chaste hard or tongue-down-your-throat hard?”

He smiled at her lack of boundaries. Damn girl had no filter and he loved her for it.

“So what’s wrong? He doesn't feel the same?” she asked.

“No, the problem is, he does,” Frank sighed.

“Oh. So I guess it's complicated?”

“Yeah. He wants a relationship, and I… erm...”

“Complicated?” she asked softly.

Jamia braced herself and lifted herself up to sit on the counter. Her legs swayed through the air affably. To no surprise her socks didn't match.

“Yeah,” he breathed as they fell into a moment of silence. He worked his fingers through soft black fur. The dog licked his fingers and draped its paw over his arm. It sensed his emotions and matched his morose demeanor.

She slid off the counter and sat beside him.

“Sounds like whatever is holding you back… you need to let it go, Frank.”

She rested her head against his shoulder. Sandwiched between her and the dog, he eased into his seat.

“So I've been told,” he said.

“He loves you,” Jamia said. “Don't let that go to waste. Not for anything.”

“Okay,” he sighed into her soft hair. “I don't know what to do though.”

“I know you've got walls. We can all see it. But I promise you it's worth letting them down for him.”

“You really think so?”

She hummed. “I know. Why the hell do you think I'm single? Trust issues, dumbass.”

Three days passed slowly, all in a single blur. He slept on the couch with the dog curled next to his chest, drove to work with Jamia, and chatted about everything that didn't matter. It was easy, peaceful… and sad. He spent most of his time trying not to think about his life. Trying not to rot in the endless guilt of what he had and hadn't done.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Frank asked Jamia.

She smirked. “Oh, you never will.”

“That’s what I thought.”

~ ~ ~

It wasn't long before Frank discovered Jamia had nightmares. Horrible, scream-inducing nightmares. Late into his second night on her couch, the stagnant silence was torn to shreds by a piercing cry that shook Frank from his sleep. It sent him rushing with a burst of adrenaline into Jamia’s room.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

Beads of shining sweat clung to her flesh. With skin like a ghost she had her arms wrapped around a pillow. White flesh all but glowed in the darkened room. Her fingers strained into the fabric as though she were clinging to life itself.

“It's okay,” he shushed. “What happened?”

“Bad dreams,” she sighed. She drew her knees up around her chin. “I don't have them all the time, but they're awful when I do. It feels too real.”

“I've had them too,” he said. “I get it.”

He sat on the bed next to her and leaned into her so she could tuck her head under his chin.

“It’s over,” he said. “I'm right here.”

“Yeah,” she said distantly.

She sighed against him.

“It's gonna be alright.”

“I know,” she breathed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Definitely not,” she groaned.

Her hair tickled his face as he nodded. Even soaked in cold sweat she still smelled like soap and warmth.

“Frank?” she said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Don't leave me alone.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

He shifted his weight to lie on the bed, and let her ease close to him.

“I'm right here,” he reassured.

“You're my best friend, you know,” she said, wrapping an arm around his chest.

“And you're mine.”

“Nah,” she sighed. “Gerard is your best friend.”

“No,” he chuckled. “Gerard is like… my soulmate. Huge difference.”

“Oh hush, drama queen.”

It was peaceful resting against her for the night. He wondered what plagued her mind so deep into her dreams that she returned to reality with a scream like that. He imagined her guardian angel in heaven aching to see her tormented with them. It was a feeling he knew too well.

As he drifted back to sleep, settled into the warmth of her smaller body against him, he mused on the concept. She may not have been his responsibility but he still had the means to protect her. Caring for someone when you didn't have to was a privilege in its own right.

The first sound of the next morning was a distant hiss of shower water from the bathroom as he woke up alone.  
Jamia, like Gerard, seemed to be an early riser. He roused himself and trekked out of the room in favor of breakfast. The kitchen floor was cold under his bare feet. The dog licked his legs as he stood.

Jamia came into the kitchen several minutes later, running a towel over wet hair. He chewed on a peanut butter sandwich and watched the morning news. Neither of them mentioned the previous night.

Work ran slowly but comfortably for a Saturday. They took food from the diner home with them and spent their evening watching a college football game.

“Shit, Jamia cheered at the TV. “Wide receiver just ran like a bat outta hell. That had to be, what, 40 yards?”

“Maybe a little more,” Frank said, chewing on a toothpick. “Fucker’s fast. I'm impressed.”

“Damn right. He keeps going like that he'll make the NFL.”

Football was a primal sport; aggressive and dangerous. He didn't mind watching it from time to time but it was an entirely new experience seeing a game with Jamia. Her commentary made him laugh.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, signaling a text message.

Attentive as always, Jamia asked, “Is that Gerard?”

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Come home”, the text said.

No ‘please’; it wasn't a question. Gerard wasn't begging. He was telling him to be there. A chill crept ominously up his spine. Please be okay, he prayed.

“He says to come home,” he said.

Wasting no time, Jamia leapt from the couch. “Well, get your shit together then. I’ll drive you like, now.”

“Okay,” he said in a low tone.

He took less than five minutes gathering his belongings and stuffing them in his backpack. He accepted a goodbye kiss from the dog and followed Jamia to the car.

“You're the best friend I've had,” he told her as he stepped out of the vehicle toward his and Gerard’s apartment.

“Damn right I am.” Jamia grinned. “Don’t screw things up with Gee, alright?”

“I'll do my best,” he said. “Thanks, James.”

“Any day, pretty boy. I'll see you at work on Monday.”

~ ~ ~

The apartment was dead silent when Frank went in. There was no music leaking from headphones or a record player; no scratch of a pencil against paper; no flutter of turning book pages. Only stillness.

Frank crossed himself and said a Hail Mary under his breath. He found Gerard in the kitchen. The man sat on the floor with his head against a cabinet. A full bottle of vodka sat by his foot. He stared into the air with blank eyes, twirling a razor blade between his fingers. It glinted in the light with each rotation; a treacherous sparkle.

The man’s eyes were dark and his mouth pressed together in a tight line. His legs sprawled carelessly across the tile. He hadn't even taken his shoes off from work.

“Gee,” he whispered shakily. He eased down to kneel in front of him.

“Couldn't fucking do it,” Gerard said softly. “I wanted to, but I just couldn't. Couldn't face the idea of you knowing I’d fallen back down.”

Frank touched his face. Gerard sighed as his fingers ghosted his cheek and then his jawline. He thought of kissing him as he pursed his lips sadly. He didn't dare.

“You're stronger than that,” he told him.

“Or I care too much,” said Gerard flatly.

“There’s no such thing as caring too much.”

Frank sat down next to him. He leaned his shoulder against Gerard’s and put his hand in his. Gerard gripped his fingers and lifted their hands to stare at them. His face remained blank, except for a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. He rubbed his thumb over the spiderweb tattoo.

They sat in silence until the man let out a soft sob. Tears ghosted his cheeks and stained his eyelashes. Frank held tight to his hands and pressed his lips to his forehead as Gerard folded around him, crying.

The time spent on the kitchen floor with both of their tears and regrets felt like days.

“We can't keep this up,” said Gerard heavily. “It’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” Frank agreed, unsure exactly which direction Gerard was taking this.

“We both have a lot of baggage. But whatever is getting between us… We’re better than that, Frankie.”

“I know,” he said.

They sat in silence a moment. Fear seemed to be the dominating emotion, mixing in a cocktail of adrenaline and certainty. They seemed at a standstill; touching innocently but not crossing the lines they'd had for so long.

Gerard leaned his head against his temple and he sighed. The man’s breath tickled his ear as he let out a small laugh.

“What the hell are you laughing about?” Frank chuckled.

“Oh just… questions.”

“Well ask away, dickhead. I'm pretty sure there aren't any answers you don't deserve at this point.”

Frank was reminded of the first day when he’d sat at the table and let Gerard ask him everything under the sun.

“I just… you're my guardian angel. You know me.”

“Yeah,” Frank said.

“It's just weird. You said you've seen my whole life… Is that everything?”

“Pretty much. Nothing too, um… private, if that's what you mean.”

“Good to know,” Gerard laughed. “But I mean… All those years.”

“You process time differently in the afterlife,” Frank said. “Years feel a lot shorter. More like hours, really.”

“Huh. That's cool. That time I got held up at gunpoint in the gas station…”

“Scary day for me,” Frank said.

“All those years, I remembered the wicked look in that guy’s eyes and wondered what kept him from shooting me.”

“I did,” Frank said softly. “Just… nudged him in the guilt a little. Even evil men have souls.”

“Wow,” said Gerard.

“I made damn sure it snowed every Christmas too.”

“You're too hard on yourself,” Gerard said softly. “I know you feel bad. But I could never hold anything that’s happened to me against you.”

“I wish I could forgive myself the way you forgive me,” Frank said.

“Me too.”

Everything weighing Gerard down and holding him back fell through. He questioningly gazed into Frank’s eyes a moment and kissed him. The softest touch of his mouth against his and he felt his pulse rush. He kept it innocent, gentle; and then rested his forehead against his.

“I love you,” Frank breathed.

“More than you know,” Gerard said.

The smooth, hard edge of the razor was placed in his palm as Gerard surrendered his last defenses. Frank threw it toward the trash can and hummed as it landed with a _clink_ against something glass in the bin. 

He shifted onto his knees and wrapped his hand around Frank’s neck. Gerard’s long fingers were steady behind his ear. The tile floor was cool beneath his palms as he supported himself, all but straddling him. His thighs were solid against his legs; teasing but not too much to bear. The deep contact felt like the wave of a white flag. A truce.

Gerard kissed him hard. Frank felt a low noise escape his throat as he parted his lips and fell deep into him. For the moment, he let go of the guilt that shackled him. He lost himself in the warmth of his skin and the sureity in his pulse. It was like a high as he felt Gerard’s breath against his cheek. Not like being drunk—he was too aware of each sensation. He tasted the last traces of salty tears on his skin and leaned up to wrap his hands around his shoulders.

“Easy,” he hummed warningly as Gerard began to work his mouth across his jaw. He groaned softly as he suckled at a tender spot behind his ear. “Not too fast.”

“Okay,” Gerard said gently, breath cool against the wet spot he’d created on his jaw. He checked his watch. “It's late.”

“Yeah. You should get to bed,” whispered Frank.

“Come with me,” a wince crossed his eyes. “Not… Not like that. Nothing much. Just stay.”

“Alright,” Frank said, rising to his feet.

Gerard lead him to the bedroom. Frank realized he'd never been in there. There were clothes on the floor, discarded sketches, and open books. Much like Gerard himself, it was a poetic sort of disaster. He stripped his jeans off for the night and found himself feeling briefly awkward in his boxers.

The gray sheets were cool against his bare legs and Gerard was warm. There was an odd intimacy in sleeping next to someone. It required letting your guard down completely. No more walls or defenses.

The distant rush of cars passing on the highway seemed so far away. No one could touch them here. There was the dependable rise and fall of Gerard’s chest beneath his arm; the gentle caress as he toyed his hair between his fingers; and the secure contact in the way their bodies intertwined. He didn't know where he ended and Gerard began anymore. He didn't want to.

~ ~ ~

Gerard took his mornings slower with Frank next to him. He marveled at the soft noises he made in his sleep; the tiniest of moans and sighs. Every now and then he'd twitch, like a sleeping puppy.

He found himself lying awake to soak up the peace in his sleeping expression. He snored softly with his mouth askew. Nothing troubled him in these fragile moments. Gerard felt somehow that he was the one meant to keep Frank safe—not the other way around.

Frank didn't like to get up but instead had a habit of latching onto him and keeping him prisoner. He definitely didn't mind it, except maybe when he was itching for a cigarette. Most mornings he lost himself in the smell of his skin and the pace of his breath. Sometimes he stared at his tattoos and tried to choose a favorite.

When Frank finally did rouse himself he was talkative and only moderately coherent. He'd rub his eyes, yawn a few times, and sit with his back against the headboard. Gerard brought coffee into the bedroom so they could talk and lean on one another before work.

“You think the couch feels lonely?” Frank snickered into his mug that morning.

“Do I think the couch _feels_?” he laughed.

“It's a reasonable question,” Frank said. His nose wrinkled as he grinned. “I mean, I slept on the sofa for a long time. How would you feel if someone slept next to you all those weeks and then abandoned you for someone more comfy?”

“Only you would actually spend time thinking about this shit.”

Gerard kissed his temple and sighed softly against him. Things were different between them now, undoubtedly for the better. He leaned in further to meet his lips.

He could see the moments when Frank was grappling to trust him. He understood. Sometimes trust wasn't about fearing the other person’s intentions but imagining that one day they'd wake up and not love you anymore. He was surprised he wasn't feeling the same thing… If there was a struggle they shared, it was self-loathing.

He trusted Frank implicitly. He never felt he deserved his love but he couldn't imagine him ever betraying him. Frank was loyal in ways he couldn't wrap his head around.

“You've got coffee breath,” Gerard said softly.

“So do you, dummy,” he said.

Frank let out a shiver as droplets of water left over from the shower he'd taken earlier fell onto his skin. Still, he didn't draw back from him. Fucking masochistic, he thought.

“It's New Year’s Eve,” Gerard said. “You excited for the concert tonight?”

He saw the moment he remembered. The grin spread into his eyes.

“Hell yeah!” said Frank. “It's gonna be so fucking rad.”

He repressed a tremble as Frank's fingers brushed his spine. Surely they were past the point that they could say they were rushing? Darkly, he wondered if he was loud when he came. Jesus, he hoped so. He thought too of each piece of artwork that must have rested in places he'd never noticed or seen. All those tattoos…

He shook the thought from his head and stood up to get more coffee.

There was a surprising amount of solace to be found in the routine they'd created. The nights spent resting innocently against each other; the quiet mornings; the idle touches through the day; kissing in the car before work… The world hurt less.

The concert was easily one of the best nights of his life. The band meant more to Frank but he still enjoyed it. He smiled at the sight of his bright eyes, fixated ahead. He didn't let go of his hand for a moment the entire show but he never glanced away from the stage either. He noticed him singing along under his breath with most songs.

Every sense was overloaded with bright lights, the screaming guitars, pounding drums, cheers of the crowd, bodies brushing against his own, and the mixed smells of smoke and cheap alcohol. He could see Frank loving every second of it with a transparent intensity.

The show ended with Tim Armstrong getting the crowd to count down to the New Year. No later than the moment midnight came, Frank kissed him hard.

“Happy New Year,” he gasped against him.

                                ~ ~ ~   
  
Like a high, adrenaline surged through Frank’s system even when the show was over. Locked in a moment with Gerard forever was the second the New Year began. He'd wrapped his hands around his face and let himself collide into him.

“Happy New Year,” Gerard said breathlessly.

“That was the best night ever,” Frank sighed in the car.

“Yeah?” Gerard grinned widely; the smile bleeding into his eyes to light them up.

“Yeah,” Frank said. And he didn't want to think anymore, didn’t want to hold himself back, he only wanted to keep feeling. He needed to drown in it.

“I love you so much,” he whispered into Gerard’s ear. Running his fingers through his soft hair, he kissed a path down his jawline, neck, and collarbone. “Let’s go home.”

A strange expression of happiness and at the same time, want, stayed in Gerard’s eyes as they drove home.

“What are you thinking?” Gerard hummed thoughtfully, referring to his hand resting against his inner thigh as he drove.

“That it's gonna be a hell of a year.” Frank smirked. He watched a flush seep across Gerard’s face as he traced delicate circles with his thumb over his jeans.

He fidgeted anxiously with the keys and finally got the door open. They idled around the apartment for what felt like ages, making innocent yet loaded conversation, recapping the night. Frank’s resolve hardened as he caught the sight of the bedroom door. He was steady. He was sure.

Gerard met him halfway as he leaned forward. Feverish and intense, he kissed him and felt the man’s hand come to rest on his hip. Panting, he broke the kiss and leaned his head against him. Methodically he ran his hand up his stomach and chest. He felt him tremble and savored it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Gerard whispered.

“Positive,” he said firmly.

Faster than Frank’s mind could keep pace, his hand was on the bedroom door. A deep flush spread across Gerard’s face as he slipped his hands under his shirt and yanked it from over his head.

Frank’s heart was in his mouth as he took in the sight of him—pale and blushing. His head rolled back as he traced his smooth skin beneath his fingertips.

“You're so beautiful,” he purred, making him flush deeper.

He pressed his lips against the dip of his throat and lost his head in the noises Gerard was making. His breath was thready while he groped his thighs and circled his nipples with his tongue. His hips lurched when his teeth ghosted the bud of it.

“Yeah, you like that,” he noted. He could explore this reaction more later.

Gerard nudged him back toward the bed. He watched something in him bend and finally break as he went from a shy blush to a heated determination. He was everywhere as he gripped his waist and took control. Frank was more than happy to let him lead.

His senses overloaded with the heat of Gerard’s mouth on his neck behind his ear, his chest, and his stomach. He felt a shiver escape him as his thumb pressed against his nipple. Gerard let out a satisfied hum, and kissed him. He was surprised by how rough he suddenly was; gripping his ribs and nipping at his neck.

He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this as Gerard fumbled with his belt buckle. Cold air licked at his legs. The contrast of his hot breath and frigid atmosphere against his neck made him gasp.

He reached his tipping point when Gerard bit down teasingly on his bottom lip.

“Shit,” he gasped while he palmed him through his boxers. He couldn't stand to be teased anymore. His hips bucked up against his hand.

Sensing his neediness, Gerard’s gentility returned.

“How do you want to do this?” he panted.

Arched over him, Gerard was stunning. Frank sighed into his neck; traced his fingers up and down his spine. He wanted to know every single line of him. He liked the slight curve of softness at his waist best. Gerard’s fingertips drew burning circles around the tattoos at the bottom of his stomach.

Frank leaned up to pull him down closer, wrapping his body around his own until their chests touched.

“Take me,” he groaned.

He wanted Gerard to keep this control over him.

“Okay,” he whispered.

He pulled away a moment as he fumbled through the drawer for a condom and lube.

He felt nervous. He’d had sex before but never like this. Pain he could handle, but what if he wasn't good enough for him?

Frank stammered as Gerard stripped his own jeans off. “I haven't ever uh… I've been with guys before, but never um… on top of me.”

Gerard smiled sweetly. “You're sure about it? You want me on top?”

He nodded, wrapping his legs around his thighs and opening his hips. He wanted him this way.

“I trust you,” Frank said softly.

The man straddled him with an oddly excited expression. Frank’s face burned as he slipped his boxers off with graceful fingers.

“Lift your hips up for me,” Gerard purred.

Needy and willing, Frank complied. His cock brushed against the other man’s stomach, sending a jolt through his system. A low moan escaped his throat as Gerard slid two slick fingers inside him. It didn't hurt yet--just felt tight. He closed his eyes and let the sensation take hold of him as he stretched him with a third finger and searched for his prostate.

“How you feel?” Gerard whispered.

“Doesn't hurt yet,” he said.

He felt his grin against his shoulder as he found his sweet spot, resulting in a choked curse falling from Frank’s mouth. He trembled around his fingers.

Frank whined as he withdrew his hand and leaned against his chest.

“Fuck, Frankie,” he groaned.

Frank reached around him and clumsily jerked his boxers off him. Gerard’s face flushed again, brightly as he took in the sight of him. He was stiff and leaking.

With shaking hands Frank tore the package open and slipped the condom onto him.

“God, you're big,” he marveled.

Gerard looked bashful and responded by teasing Frank’s tip with his thumb, spreading pre-cum.

He panted. “Gee. I can't—I need…”

“I've got you,” Gerard hushed him with a kiss. He met his eyes and cradled his cheek while he lined himself up.

He let out a primal noise, halfway choked as he slid inside of him. His movements were gentle at first as Frank hissed with pain. He eased himself forward slowly, clenching his teeth around a high moan. It stung deeply but he didn't want it to stop. More pain radiated in his ribs as his long fingers pushed at his sides.

Gerard whined as he bottomed out.

“Oh my… _Oh_ you're tight, Frankie,” he gasped.

The muscles in Gerard’s back rippled beneath his palms as he gained speed. He thrusted harder with time, letting out amazing gasps and little noises. Frank rolled his hips forward to match his rhythm, earning a tight clench on his hand. Gerard pinned him hard into the bed and kissed him.

“I love you,” Gerard whispered against his face as Frank let out a sharp cry of pleasure.

The rush of skin on skin and Gerard’s heart beating against his own… The mixture of warm affection and primal urge… It all overwhelmed him. Gerard was his, he thought. The best thing he'd ever have.

He keened low in his throat as Gerard thrust hard into him, over and and over and over again. Every inhibition he had melted away as he was driven closer to the edge. He writhed beneath him as Gerard tucked a hand between their bodies and stroked his shaft with gentle precision.

“ _Gee_ ,” he whined.

“Come for me, honey,” Gerard said darkly.

His orgasm started in the pit of his stomach and spread through him like liquid fire. Gerard kissed his ear and moaned into his hair as he finished; wet and hot over their stomachs. He dug his fingers into his back and sobbed with the feeling as he came around him.

Gerard followed only moments later, loud and trembling. He came hard; collapsing on top of him breathlessly. Frank could tell he'd have bruises later where Gerard’s fingers sank into his ribs.

“Holy shit,” Frank sighed, stroking his hair.

“Yeah,” Gerard laughed softly. His eyes squeezed shut with oversensitivity as he pulled out of him.

He reached off the bed, grabbed a shirt off the floor and wiped his stomach clean. He passed it to Frank to do the same.

He shifted his weight so he could rest his head against his bare chest.

“Was that okay?” Frank asked insecurely.

Gerard laughed and kissed his nose.

“Best New Year of my life,” he hummed.

“Mine too,” said Frank.

~ ~ ~

“My ass hurts,” Frank said as he woke up. The statement was half-groan, half-laugh.

Gerard winced. “Sorry about that.”

Frank shook his head. “Fuck, don't be sorry. I think I like it.”

“You kinky motherfucker,” Gerard chuckled.

“To be fair, your dick is kind of huge.” Frank smirked as he kissed his blushing cheek.

He toyed Gerard’s hair in his fingers as he the man nestled his face in his neck.

“I told my family you were just a friend,” he said. “They're never gonna let me hear the end of it now.”

“Nah,” Frank said. “I’ll just tell them you were just too charming to resist and I worked tirelessly to win you over.”

Gerard giggled softly against his skin. Frank dragged his fingers across his stomach idly. His leg brushed against his own as he ran his hand curiously over the word “hope” on his chest. Waking up naked next to him had to be one of the best feelings of his entire life.

“What now?” Gerard asked. He sounded scared, almost fragile.

“I don't know,” Frank said. He pressed his lips to his forehead and eased closer. “But you’re kind of stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

“You can't promise that. Things happen. I could still lose you.” He sighed.

“I can't die, Gerard,” he said simply.

Gerard’s brows knitted together and he met his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Being sent down here was a lEdson. I lost my wings and my place in heaven for a set period of time.”

“How much time?” Gerard asked eagerly.

He watched Frank’s face as he spoke, as though he told him of wondrous things. And they were, he supposed. Taking the things he knew for granted would be shameful. All of this was new to Gerard.

He sighed and forced himself to trust him. “For the rest of your life,” he said.

“Wait,” Gerard said. He pulled away from him. “I'm part of your punishment?”

“No!” Frank blurted. He caressed his jaw line and turned his face to look into his eyes. “You were never anything but a blessing, Gee. A privilege.”

He kissed him gently and continued, “God is fair. She said I had to learn my lesson. But that taking you from more was more than I deserved.”

“I don't know what to say,” Gerard said.

“Don't say anything,” said Frank, and kissed him again.

Gerard leaned his body against his and reached forward to stroke his hair. Cool sunlight streaked through the window onto the bed.

“You were the one thing I got to keep,” Frank whispered. “And you'll be with me up there too.”

“You know,” Gerard hummed. “You were always there when I needed you. Even if you feel like you weren't.”

“That means a lot,” he said.

He took Gerard’s left arm in his hands and held it between them. He took in the sight of each faded pink line and ran his fingers across the scars. Both of them held tight to the sorrow in their eyes as Frank tenderly brushed his fingers across them and kissed his wrist.  
He remembered each instance that created those scars. He'd never understand how a creature as beautiful as Gerard could destroy himself so easily.

“I love you, Gee,” he said. “More than you could know.”

“I love you too. For everything.”

“I'll always be here. I swear to you.”

They leaned on each other that way for a long time.

“You really need a shower,” Frank said. A strand of greasy brown hair slid through his fingers.

Gerard smirked. “You wanna come with me?”

“Hell yeah.” Frank grinned.

Neither of them bothered to get clothes.

“Stop staring at my ass!” said Gerard as Frank trailed him to the bathroom.

“It's a nice ass!” he defended. “Very picturesque.”

A scantily clad Gerard clicked the bathroom door shut behind them and adjusted the shower to a setting they agreed on.

Frank caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and shied away from it. Gerard must have noticed, because he placed his hands on Frank’s shoulders and turned him to face the reflection.

“Look at you,” he sighed, staring the image of the two of them up and down. The glass had begun to fog at the edges with steam. “You're gorgeous, Frankie.”

He watched in the mirror as Gerard’s pressed close behind him and trailed his fingers over his skin. He took his sweet time caressing his waist, stomach, and chest. Frank shivered at the gentle grace in his hands as he circled his nipples. Then he kissed his temples, ears, neck, and shoulders.

Frank stiffened and closed his eyes as he pulled back to trace the thick, raised scars that rested against his shoulder blades. He sighed as Gerard knelt slightly to kiss them. He felt himself tremble beneath his hands. Gerard only hummed soft reassurances as he did and coaxed him into the shower.

Streams of water ran from Gerard's hair down his face, and Frank’s breath hitched his throat. He kissed his slick lips and ran his thumbs across his collarbone. Gerard’s hard cock brushed against his thigh and made him groan.

The man pulled him under the warm stream and kissed him there. He moaned as he parted his lips and gripped his shoulders.

“Fuck,” Frank said. “We forgot to get the stuff.”

“Oh. Shit,” Gerard sighed. “Just… Juse fucking forget about it. I know we’re both clean.”

“Are you… That’s okay” Frank asked with wide eyes. “I mean, I trust you, but, are you positive you want to try that?”

“Yeah,” Gerard purred. He put a bottle of conditioner in his hands. “This works pretty good.”

“Okay,” Frank said.

He kissed him again and palmed his wet hair. His cock throbbed as Gerard grinded against him. He wasn't sure how happy his ass would be about doing this again already but he wasn't complaining.

He groaned in a high tone as he stroked his shaft. The skill in the man’s hands was no less than stunning. He clenched his teeth and let out a soft cry as he brushed his thumb agonizingly slow across his slit. His fingers worked down the underside and teased him, circling the base of him.

Frank looked at Gerard in surprise as he grabbed his hand and slicked his fingers for him with a copious amount of conditioner.

“You’re taking me this time,” Gerard said firmly.

“Gee… are you sure?

“Damn sure,” he said. “I want you to, Frank.”

With that, Frank leaned in to kiss the curve of his shoulder and eased his fingers inside him.

“Shit,” Gerard hissed as he got two and then three fingers in. “Don't stop.”

He worked his fingers around until Gerard bucked against his hand, cursing. Satisfied, Frank withdrew his fingers, and dropped to his knees.

“Frank,” Gerard keened as he teased him with his tongue.

He pressed his lips against his tip and finally took him into his mouth as deep as he could stand. It was incredible; his warm cock heavy and wet on his tongue. Gerard’s hand tugged his wet hair as his head rolled back. He panted and gasped as Frank hummed around him.

He felt his legs starting to weaken and wrapped his arms around his waist to steady him.

“Oh, fuck,” Gerard cried as Frank bobbed his head back and forth, his cheeks hollowed. He stammered endlessly in a stream of cusses and groans.

He pulled off the moment he could sense him getting close, as his noises grew more desperate. Wickedly, he gave one brush against his shaft, barely touching him.

Frank couldn't restrain his smile as Gerard hissed. In one smooth motion, he gripped his thighs, lifted him up, and pushed him against the steam-soaked wall. He watched his mouth fall open.

“What?” he asked, grinning.

“Nothing,” Gerard said. “Just… Surprised you can pick me up like that.”

Frank nipped at his neck. “You’re not as heavy as you look, baby,” he purred.

Gerard wrapped his legs around his hips to better support his own weight. He reached the bottle of conditioner and placed it in Gerard’s hands. The cap opened with a snick sound and he spread the creamy substance across his length. He gasped at the unexpected coolness of it and rested his head limply against Gerard’s collarbone. He gave his cock one final stroke of the material and set the bottle down.

“You’re sure about this?” Frank whispered.

“Frank, _please_ ,” Gerard whined deeply. “I can't…”

“Okay,” Frank said softly.

He lined himself up and thrust into him. He heard a moan escape his own throat and bounce from wall to wall. He was shocked at the new kind of closeness they had without a condom. He felt it all so much more; the friction and heat and oh god the tightness.

Gerard’s fingers sank into his lower back sharply as he let out small sounds of simultaneous pain and pleasure. He squeezed Frank’s hips with his legs as he bottomed out.

He felt pride as Gerard whined and gripped him tight. He begged more friction. He thrust hard, holding fast to his thighs. Each motion tore through him like his body was made of paper, so he occasionally had to slow himself. Every time his rhythm decreased in the slightest, Gerard kissed his face and pleaded filthily for more. Frank wanted to be good for him.

Gerard was unbearably solid around him. It made his head spin, feeling like he'd fly to pieces any given second.

“ _Mine_ ,” Frank groaned.

“Yours,” Gerard gasped. He repeated the word over and over as Frank stroked his length. Gerard shouted his name as he came in a rush of heat. Frank matched him moan-for-moan as the Gerard lost it around him tightly. He'd been reduced to a gorgeous wreck; sobbing and dripping with shower water.

“That's it,” Frank sighed into his ear.

The way he trembled and as he climaxed triggered Frank’s own orgasm. It ripped through him and shook him to his core. He cried as he came inside of him, biting down on a scream. It must have been liters of cum, because it just kept rocking through him in waves.

He worried his legs would give out. He felt weakened and so, so taken. He was dizzy with his oversensitivity. He kissed Gerard hard and eased him down onto his feet.

“Frank,” he breathed against his wet skin, stammering. “That was so… holy… you're so good. I love you, you’re so good.”

He kissed him again, tasting the water as it cascaded from his lips to his chest.

“I love you too, Gerard,” he hummed. “So fucking much.”

~ ~ ~

“Urgh, _motherfucker_ ,” Gerard screeched as soap-slicked water seeped into his socks.

His frustrated wail prompted Frank to check out the cause of the noise.

“You sound like a— _ah, what the_ —” he said as he stepped into the same pool of gray-tinted sudsy water. “Oh, you bastard,” he hissed at the washing machine. “Explains why you sound like a dying fruit bat.”

Gerard threw his hands up exasperatedly and looked up at him with a what-the-hell-else-did-you-expect-asshole? expression. Frank responded with a halfway agitated, halfway amused expression with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Water continued to pool around their feet.

“I told you the washer needed work,” he said smugly.

Shaking his head and not quite grinning, Gerard raised his middle finger high.

“Alright, well now it does,” Gerard said. He sighed. “Ugh, now what?”

“Uh…” Frank said. “I dunno. Clean up the mess and go to that laundromat a couple blocks away?”

“I guess,” Gerard groaned.

As the rest of the wash drained from the basin and onto the floor, Frank made his way to the towel rack to clean up the mess. He seemed less adversely affected but the mishap than Gerard did, which actually managed to calm him down.

Comically enough, as Frank walked, his shoe made a shrill squeal sound across the linoleum when he lost traction to the soap. Gerard watched wide eyed, as Frank’s legs shot out from beneath him and his back hit the floor. He splashed down into the mess, surprisingly quiet like he hadn't yet processed what just happened. Droplets of water hit Gerard’s clothes and face. The vibrations of his impact made ripples in the pool of it.

Before he had the chance to respond to it and ask if he was okay, Frank spread his arms into the drenched floor and began shrieking with laughter.

“What the _hell_ just happened to me?” he cried, letting loose another wave of rasping laughs. Gerard started laughing too, loud and hard as he took in the sight of a red-faced, sputtering Frank sprawled at his feet.

As he gained his composure, he extended a hand to help Frank to his feet. Before he could register what was happening, Frank gave a sharp yank on his arm to pull him to the flooded linoleum too. The bathroom blurred as he fell forward. A loud splash and a thump later he was lying on top of Frank in the floor, head spinning. His clothes went soggy quickly and the cold slimy soap slicked his skin. The strong floral stench of the detergent filled his nose.

He couldn't believe what Frank had just done, or worse yet, he could. The guy was lucky he was so handsome because he was more devilish than angelic at times; a definite handful. He was both a chatterbox and a ball of energy.

Gerard’s knees throbbed where they had hit the hard floor and one of Frank’s ribs was jabbing into a soft spot of his stomach. He squirmed where he'd fallen on top of him.

“Oh, what'd you do that for?” he groaned, trying not to laugh harder. Water sloshed around their two bodies as he shifted his weight into a more comfortable-ish position.

“For fun,” Frank grinned. The shorter man gripped his hair and yanked him forcefully into a kiss, breathless and sloppy.

“Fun,” Gerard scoffed. “You're an asshole.”

“And you love me for it,” Frank said smugly.

Gerard nodded and finally broke his composure, wheezing as he laughed until his stomach ached. He ran his fingers through Frank’s drenched hair and kissed his face.

“Mmf,” Gerard hummed against his skin. “Now we have a bigger mess.”

Frank snickered wickedly and said, “Laundromat.”

Gerard pushed himself up on unsteady legs and checked his watch.

“Are laundromats open this late?” Gerard asked. “It's like ten PM.”

“Usually. There's gotta be at least one in town that's twenty-four hours,” Frank said.

Gerard nodded, helping Frank collect towels. Gerard worked to wipe the floor dry as Frank washed the sudsy mess of detergent water out of his hair.

“Quit watching me shower, you creep,” Frank said, grinning. His eyes remained closed but he clearly sensed Gerard’s eyes on him.

“But you're so pretty,” Gerard retorted. “A free show is a free show.”

“Fuck you too, babe,” Frank chuckled.  
  
The handle squeaked as he turned the water off, dried himself, and put the dirty shirt back on. Droplets fell from his hair as he toweled it.

“You’re gross,” Gerard said.

“Yeah well, I’ve got clean jeans but this shirt is all that’s left. Everything was in the wash,” Frank defended.

“Fair enough,” said Gerard. “I'm gonna go change.”

Once he came back, the two loaded their soggy laundry into a hamper and set off into the cold night.

Frank’s driving was so much steadier than his own, he mused. The man worked his hands smoothly on the steering wheel like a natural motion. His shoulders rested lax against the seat and his face was peaceful. He appeared so at ease and sure of his movements. He hummed as he drove, soft and low in his throat. It placed a sense of safety in Gerard’s chest, a security he hadn't previously felt. Sometimes he thought of simply driving somewhere all night; sleeping to his soft hums and gentle maneuvers as the world rushed by.

Clouds of smoke left his mouth as he drove; cigarette darting smoothly between his lips and a resting place against the steering wheel. He had an attractive, comforting sort of rhythm as he drove and smoked. The warmth of his secondhand smoke and body heat relaxed Gerard.

Frank eased the car into a parking spot at an empty laundromat, vacant but still lit up.

“Told ya,” Frank smiled. “Open. Let’s head in.”

With that, he put his cigarette out, heaved the dripping laundry hamper out of the car, and walked up to the door. Gerard held it open for him as he carried the load. The laundromat was cool and not cold inside, a relief from the biting Jersey winter.

Laundromats piqued Gerard’s interest somehow; the way no two were alike. This one was rather abused; the walls were graffitied and stained, the washers and driers were dented, and the lights flickered occasionally. Out of order vending machines sat lonely in the back corner.

Frank tossed the soggy laundry into washers while Gerard changed cash into quarters to pay for the machines.

Gerard quirked an eyebrow as Frank stripped his shirt off and threw it in the washer.

“Oh shut up,” chuckled Frank. “It's my favorite shirt and nobody’s here.”

“I wasn't complaining.” Gerard smiled and kissed the exposed man’s forehead.

“God, it's cold,” Frank hissed, nipples hardened and skin prickling with goosebumps.

Smirking, Gerard put his hands on Frank’s bare skin and traced the lines of flesh and ink down his back. He liked the soft sensation of his chilled skin beneath his fingertips. Humming, Frank leaned in close to absorb some of the heat emanating off him.

“You're so warm,” Frank whispered, shoulders falling slack as Gerard’s fingers ghosted over the raised flesh of scars on his back.

He planted a chaste kiss on the tattoo at the side of his neck and pulled him closer. He yelped as Frank wickedly stuck his icy fingers up his shirt to warm them on his back.

Stripping the sweater off himself, he handed the warm fabric to Frank and stood awkwardly in his remaining tee shirt. Eagerly, the shorter man put the shirt on and hummed contentedly.

The world passed them by, left in their comfortable silence as the washers took their sweet time. An endearingly menacing streak of mischief crossed Frank’s face, in all eventuality. Usually the expression meant something bad or fun was about to happen; most often both, in Gerard’s experience. He must have terrorized all of heaven with his reckless impulsivity once.

Just like that, Frank seized a rickety laundry cart and clambered into it. The thing rattled with the motion and gave a small squeak of protest. Lacking no sense of glee, he awkwardly pushed himself around the laundromat with his arms sprawled aloof. He grinned and let out a series of small whooping noises as the cart gained velocity. It left Gerard only to watch as a grown man—a fallen angel no less—fly around a vacant laundromat in a cart letting out a variety of loud happy noises. Frequently he’d reach his feet out to a table or a washer, give himself a good shove, and burst into careless laughter as he spun around at top speed and crashed into various speeds.

He fumbled around to get out of the cart and finally said, “Come on, Gee! Live a little!”

“You’re such a teenager!” Gerard retorted, grinning wide.

“Goddamn fucking right. I’ll be young and dumb forever and I don’t regret it a bit. Get your ass over here,” he giggled.

Shaking his head in mirth, disbelief, and pure amusement, Gerard complied.

Being bigger than Frank, it was a squeeze getting into the cart. His knees hung over the edge and he kept his hands grasped firmly on both sides of the thing. He couldn’t believe he was doing this but he’d be damned if he wasn’t having the time of his life.

Cheering in all joy and reckless abandon, Frank shoved the Gerard-filed laundry cart away hard, sending him into a whirlwind of adrenaline and wheezing laughter. He kicked his feet around as he spun around and rolled loudly across the room. His knee banged the side of a washer pretty damn hard, which really just made him laugh harder.

It went on for some time, probably leaving a ridiculously incriminating video on the surveillance cameras. For once Gerard didn’t care what the world thought. There was only the rush of dizziness behind his eyes and the shrill sound of Frank’s laughter in his ears.

The rough teenage-reminiscent escapade slowed to a stop as Gerard pushed himself off a wall and collided sharply, cart and all, against Frank’s legs. The man winced from the impact at first but stuck to his playful mood, thrusting his hands into Gerard’s hair and forcing the remainder of his hyper mood into a kiss. The sprawled man in the cart reached back for him. He held him there and hummed against his mouth. He liked the roughness of his tattooed fingers resting on his scalp and tugging his hair.

Frank left the excitement there on his lips and set off on a mission to fold laundry as the final drying cycle finished with a resounding buzz. Feeling young, dumb, and in love, Gerard really couldn’t imagine it getting better than this. In its simplicity and ease, he loved the life he’d built since that crazy day Frank (quite literally) crashed into his life.

The snow on the pavement under their feet crunched like a whisper, crisp and barely there as they loaded the basket of folded laundry into the car.

“God, turn on the heat,” Frank hissed, rubbing his hands together as he cranked the car.

Shaking his head, Gerard complied. The steady swoosh of hot air licked at his skin and began to fog the windows.

He watched Frank leaning blissfully into the stream of hot air, long eyelashes adorning his closed lids. He hummed contentedly as he stopped shivering and relaxed himself.

Gerard didn’t think as he gave heed to the pulsing sensation beneath his flesh; he just leaned over the center console to bring his mouth down on Frank’s. The other man reacted in an instant, gripping his shoulders and sighing hotly against his cheek. It stayed soft and chaste at first, filled with affection and gentility.

The moment Frank's resolve snapped sent his system rushing with adrenaline. Gerard gasped sharply as his chilled fingers journeyed from his shoulders down to his waist. The sting of his bottom lip catching between his teeth injected a shiver into his spine.

Frank pulled away for a breath and pressed his forehead head to his own, evening out the movement of air in his lungs.

“Backseat,” Gerard pleaded, meeting his soft eyes.

Frank smiled. “Gee, I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Mm, that’s a shame,” he smirked, tracing Frank’s collarbones softly enough for it to tickle.

“Fuck it,” Frank finally hissed, shuttling the ignition off and roughly pulling Gerard out of his chair to shove him into the backseat.

His breath clouded in the cold air, further fogging the glass. Each sense overloaded in the familiar motions of Frank all over him; fast, rough and affectionate.

Gerard squirmed under the man’s weight as he pinned him hard into the backseat. It was poetry; Frank working his belt undone, teasing his hands across his inner thighs, kissing his cheek and breathing heavily into his hair. The whole world slipped far away as he gave himself over into the rhythmic sensation of Frank’s hips rolling against his own. The same noises he knew so well, the contradiction of rough hands and soft lips, the shuddery heat of Frank coming around him… It was art.

Frank pressed his cheek into his shoulder as Gerard went soft beneath him. His sweaty hair brushed against his bare skin as he eased off him and stayed silent, drenched in afterglow. He smelled like cigarettes, laundry detergent, faded cologne, and warmth.

The two eventually regained composure and dressed themselves before the cold became overwhelming.

Gerard sat up, only to be pulled back down by Frank.

“I don’t want to go home,” he whispered. He grasped for Gerard, still sounding wrecked and faded. “Stay here with me, please, Gee.”

“Okay,” Gerard said softly, kissing his temple.

He shifted his body weight to lay down behind the smaller man, conforming to the shape of him and resting his chin against his neck. Frank sighed slowly as Gerard wrapped his arms around his chest and leaned into him to hold him safe and keep him warm.

They rested there for a long time, wordlessly. He never wanted to lose this security.

“I’ve got an idea,” Gerard whispered timidly, unsure of himself.

“Mm, tell me,” Frank said.

“I don’t know,” Gerard said, doubting the concept in his head.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” said Frank, turning to meet his eyes.

The words fell from his mouth all at once, shrouded in affection. They sounded more confident out loud than in his own mind.

“Marry me,” he said, desperately searching Frank’s face for a reaction.

He felt foolish, blurting something a proposal so suddenly. Maybe this was the part where he finally fucked all of this up.

But Frank’s eyes shined. He just hummed and planted a light touch of his mouth against his.

“Of course,” he whispered casually, resting his head against him and closing his eyes.

“Really?” Gerard said, taken aback.

“Yeah,” Frank grinned, eyes still closed. “Now shut up, it’s late.”

“I love you,” he murmured into his hair.

“I love you too, Gee.”

This life wasn’t heaven. Maybe they did live in a fractured world but he was sure he loved Frank for his flaws most. All his imperfections and rough edges, lined here against his own. It was enough, he decided, closing his eyes and falling into the warm abyss of sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> That’s the end of the line! I just redid the ending completely, hope you like it. XO, Logan


End file.
